FRANZ  DE   JESS  EN 


1BRARY 


THE  UNIVERSITY 


OF  CAL  IFORNIA 


LOS  ANGELES 


Mfo 

'/let- 

X 

y 


GIFT  OF 

A;UIR   Revere 


Katya 


Katya 


A  Romance  of  Russia 


By 

Franz  de  ,  lessen 

J 


Boston 
John  W.  Luce  &  Company 


Translated  from  the  Danish  by 
W.  J.  ALEXANDER  WORSTER 


PRINTED  IN  ENGLAND 


CONTENTS 


BOOK  I 
THE  WHITE  PALACE  IN  UKRAINE 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

I.    YOUNG   PEOPLE   AT   PRILUKA  I 

II.    WHAT   HAPPENED    TO    PETRUSHKA  IO 

III.  NEW   GUESTS   ARRIVE  2O 

IV.  "  ROW,    PETYA,    ROW  !"  37 
V.    THE    OLD    HOUSE    IN    THE    KONNAYA  50 

VI.    FATES    AND   FORTUNES  68 

VII.    A    COSSACK    IN    PARIS  82 

VIII.   THE   GENERAL  AT   HIS   WORK  94 

IX.    KATYA    LISTENS  IO2 

X.    NIKI    IS    DISMISSED  121 

xi.  v^  VICTIS  !  132 

BOOK  II 
THE  CITY  OF  SUFFERING 

I.    NIGHT   ON    THE    BLACK    SEA  150 

II.    THE    GRAVE    OF   YOUTH  1 68 

III.  "  SLAVA,    KNEGINYA,    SLAVA  i"  1 82 

IV.  ANNA    NIKOLAIEVNA  1 96 
V.    HORSEMANSHIP AND    OTHER    MATTERS  >Of 

VI.    THE     RUSSIAN     CONSUL     WRITES     HIS     LAST 

REPORT  2IQ 

VII.    THE   BITTER   HARVEST  22Q 
V 


vi  CONTENTS 


BOOK  III 
THE  ADMIRAL 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

I.   A   NATIONAL  HEROINE  253 

ii.  KATYA'S  RESOURCES  263 

III.  A   LOSING  GAME  274 

IV.  WAITING   AND    DOUBT  287 
V.    THE    DOUBLE    FLIGHT  296 

VI.    A    DAY    OF    BLOOD  312 

VII.    FEVER  322 

VIII.    THE    MAKING    OF   A    MUTINEER  33! 

IX.    THE   ADMIRAL  344 

X.    THE    FINISHED    PATTERN  374 

XI.    DETHRONED  389 

XII.   JUDGMENT  400 


BOOK    I 
THE  WHITE  PALACE  IN   UKRAINE 

CHAPTER  I 

YOUNG   PEOPLE   AT   PRILUKA 

TATIANA  FEODOROVNA  had  served  for  many  years  as  house- 
keeper to  Prince  Rilinski  on  his  estate,  Priluka.  She  had 
never  known  serfdom  herself,  either  under  the  present  holder 
of  the  title,  Prince  Sergei  Arkadievitch,  or  in  his  father's  time. 
Her  husband,  however,  had  been  born  a  serf  at  Priluka,  and 
to  the  day  of  his  death  the  poor  fellow  had  never  realized  that 
the  edict  of  the  Tsar,  whereby  all  serfdom  was  abolished,  in 
any  way  concerned  himself.  He  had  never  been  particularly 
bright,  save  among  his  horses.  Tatiana  had  been  through  a 
hard  time  of  it  with  him,  and  often,  when  he  came  home 
drunk,  had  she  begged  the  men  to  tie  him  up,  lest  he  should 
do  herself  or  the  child  some  injury.  To  do  him  justice,  how- 
ever, he  knew  how  to  manage  his  horses,  whether  on  the  roads 
of  Ukraine  or  in  the  streets  of  St.  Petersburg,  Moscow,  or 
Odessa.  Prince  Sergei  Arkadievitch  took  him  everywhere, 
and  seemed,  indeed,  to  be  even  more  affected  by  his  death 
than  Tatiana  herself. 

"  He  has  driven  me  many  a  mile,"  said  Prince  Sergei  to  the 
widow.  "  He  might  have  laid  by  a  fortune  out  of  the  tips 
he  got  when  we  travelled  together  on  service,  but  he  drank 
it  all  up,  every  kopek.  And  yet  he  was  always  sober  enough 
on  the  box — always,  for  he  was  an  artist  in  his  way.  Let 
that  console  you,  Tanya.  All  the  best  traditions  of  the  country 
in  the  management  of  horses  lived  again  in  him.  We  will 
pray  for  his  soul." 

Later  on  the  child  died,  too,  and  Tatiana  Feodorovna 
thought  she  would  never  survive  the  loss.  The  Princess  and 
her  two  little  girls  had  cried,  and  everyone  had  been  so  good 


2  KATYA 

which  kindly  consolation  seemed  to  make  things  somehow 
worse  than  she  herself  had  realized  at  first. 

"My  poor  Tanya!"  said  the  Princess,  stroking  her  hair; 
"  what  can  I  do  ?  If  only  we  could  do  something  to  help 
you,  were  it  but  ever  so  little  !" 

And  Tatiana  Feodorovna  remembered  how  the  two  children 
had  stood  one  on  either  side  of  her,  each  holding  a  hand. 
Sonya  looked  up  at  her  with  big  wet  eyes,  quiet  and  solemn 
as  if  she  were  in  church ;  but  Katya  crushed  her  hand,  sobbing 
violently  all  the  time,  and  stammered  out  in  a  choking  voice: 
"  I'll  always  be  good  now;  I  will  always  be  kind  to  Tanya  !" 

But  all  that  was  long  ago — ten  or  twelve  years  now.  Tatiana 
Feodorovna  could  never  recollect  exactly  how  long  ago  it  was. 
The  date  was  painted  on  the  little  cross  in  the  cemetery,  and 
now  and  then  she  would  get  someone  who  could  read  to  spell 
it  out  for  her;  but  she  forgot  it  again,  doubtless  because  she 
always  had  an  idea  that  it  must  be  wrong,  somehow  or  other. 
She  mentioned  her  doubts  to  Alexander  Sergeivitch.  He  was 
a  pale  and  sickly  boy,  but  there  was  about  him  something  of 
the  same  quiet  dignity  of  manner  which  his  father  had,  as  if 
continual  illness  and  the  many  books  he  read  had  made  him 
older  and  wiser  than  his  years. 

"  Sasha,"  said  Tatiana  Feodorovna,  sliding  a  spoonful  of 
the  boy's  favourite  preserve  into  his  tea — "  Sasha,  is  it  right, 
do  you  think — that  date  in  the  cemetery  ?" 

"  Why  not,  Tanya  ?  Papa  told  the  painter  himself  what 
to  put." 

"  But  he  might  have  painted  it  wrong.  He  drinks,  I  know. 
Or  perhaps  people  don't  read  it  properly." 

"  There's  only  one  way  to  read  such  things,  Tanya." 

"  But,  Sasha,  it  can't  be  so  long  ago  as  all  that,  for  I 
remember  it  all  so  well.  It  might  have  been  yesterday.  Or 
else  it  must  be  much  longer,  for  so  many  things  have  hap- 
pened since.  You  were  all  so  little  then,  and  it  was  before 
Mikailo  came  to  be  coachman ;  and  he's  been  here  a  long  time 
now,  gipsy  that  he  is.  Also,  it  was  before  Katya  had  the 
measles,  but  after  we  had  sold  the  house  in  Kief.  I'm  sure 
of  that." 

Sasha  shook  his  head  wearily,  and  Tatiana  Feodorovna 
summed  up  the  matter  herself  with  a  deep  sigh. 

"  Anyhow,  she's  dead  now,  the  little  thing  !" 


YOUNG  PEOPLE  AT  PRTLUKA  3 

And  now  it  was  summer  again — one  of  the  burning  days  of 
early  July,  without  a  breath  of  wind  to  stir  the  heavy  stifling 
heat  that  hung  like  a  burden  about  the  Palace  and  its  park. 
Fierce  sunlight  flung  itself  on  lawn  and  lake;  the  ceaseless 
shimmer  of  the  burning  air  was  dazzling  everywhere;  and  in 
and  all  about  the  great  house  a  languid  stillness  reigned. 

In  the  dining-room  Tatiana  Feodorovna  was  superintending 
the  preparations  for  lunch;  Dimitri  and  one  of  the  maids  were 
laying  the  table. 

"...  Six,  seven,  eight,"  she  counted  aloud,  dropping  the 
serviettes  in  their  rings  of  silver,  silk,  or  wood  into  her  apron. 

"  Here,  Dimitri;  that's  the  Prince's.  Up  there  at  the  head 
of  the  table,  back  to  the  window.  H'm  !  he's  been  buying 
more  of  that  nasty  messy  stuff  for  his  moustache.  Just  look 
at  that  !  I'd  be  ashamed  to  send  it  to  the  wash.  That's  for 
the  Princess.  Opposite  end.  That's  right.  And  Alexander 
Sergeievitch — on  the  left  of  the  Prince — see  how  clean  he  keeps 
his  serviette,  and  so  neatly  folded,  too  !  Sonya  Sergeievna — 
next  to  her  brother — nice  and  clean,  too;  but  then  she  eats 
next  to  nothing,  bless  her  little  heart !  Then  Nikolai  Niko- 
laievitch  on  her  other  hand " 

"  But  Ekaterina  .  .  ." 

"  Hold  your  tongue,  stupid  !  What  do  you  know  about 
it  ?  ...  Lay  for  Nikolai  Nikolaievitch  between  Sonya  Ser- 
geievna and  the  Princess,  and  keep  your  remarks  to  yourself. 
Peotr  Konstantinovitch — on  the  Prince's  right — he's  going 
into  the  navy.  And  Vladimir  Alexandrovitch  —  there's  a 
serviette  for  you  !  Not  a  spot,  not  a  crease — like  everything 
else  about  him.  And  Ekaterina  Sergeievna  there — on  the  left 
of  the  Princess — crumpled  and  messy,  as  usual.  Heavens  ! 
was  there  ever  such  a  child  !  .  .  ." 

"  Now  what  have  I  been  doing  ?  Tanya,  that's  not  nice  of 
you  !"  Katya's  head  and  shoulders  appeared  over  the  sill  of 
one  of  the  low  windows  that  opened  on  to  the  courtyard. 
"  And  I  was  just  going  to  ask  you  ..." 

"  What's  the  matter  now  ?" 

"  Tanya,  dear  old  Taniushka,  do  give  me  a  glass  of  kvas ; 
I'm  so  thirsty  !" 

"  Couldn't  think  of  such  a  thing,  and  just  before  lunch,  too. 
The  idea  !  Always  wanting  things  at  the  wrong  time  !  .  .  ." 

"  Only  this  once,  Tanya.     I'm  simply  dying  for  something 


4  KATYA 

to  drink.  We've  been  out  on  the  lake,  Petya  and  Sonya  and  I. 
The  heat  was  simply  awful." 

"  Serve  you  right,  going  out  rowing  at  this  time  of  day. 
It's  no  use  coming  here  bothering  me;  you  won't  get  anything. 
And  the  bottles  are  cooling  in  the  well,  so  I  couldn't  give  it 
you  if  I  would." 

"  Ugh,  nasty  old  thing  !"  Katya  shook  an  offended  shoulder 
and  turned  away.  Dimitri  and  the  maid  exchanged  a  covert 
smile. 

Katya  strolled  off,  making  a  devour  to  avoid  suspicion.  She 
had  taken  off  her  big  straw  hat,  and  was  swinging  it  care- 
lessly by  the  ribbon.  In  summer,  when  the  house  ran  short 
of  ice,  the  well  was  used  as  a  cooling-cellar  for  such  wine  and 
liquors  as  were  required  for  the  table.  Alexei,  the  old  gar- 
dener, attended  to  this  department,  under  the  supervision  of 
Tatiana  Feodorovna,  who  took  care  that  not  so  much  as  a 
drop  of  lemonade  was  lost  in  the  process. 

"  Morning,  Alek,"  began  Katya,  in  her  silkiest  voice. 
"  How  well  you're  looking  !  As  young  as  ever  !  It's  a  treat 
to  see." 

"  That's  kind  of  you  to  say  so,  Barishna.  But  I'm  getting 
old — I'm  getting  old.  Seventy-eight,  says  Mother  Eugenia; 
but  that  I  don't  believe.  I've  always  reckoned  it  like  this: 
I'm  ten  years  older  than  the  Prince,  your  father,  and  he's 
sixty-five;  so  .  .  ." 

"  Oh,  Mother  Eugenia  1  what  does  she  know  about  it  ?" 
Katya  spoke  with  lofty  contempt.  "  Why,  a  fine  fellow  like 
you  ought  to  be  looking  out  for  another  wife  !  That's  what 
T  would  do  !" 

The  old  man  shook  with  laughter.  The  jest  was  as  extrava- 
gant as  the  flattery.  A  likely  thing,  to  get  rid  of  Mother 
Eugenia,  who  led  him  such  a  life  as  to  make  him  a  laughing- 
stock among  his  fellows.  They,  at  least,  had  retained  their 
lawful  marital  right  of  beating  their  wives  as  often  as  they 
pleased,  while  in  Alek's  case  the  position  was  reversed. 

"  Oh,  little  Father  in  Heaven,"  he  spluttered,  "  was  there 
ever  such  a  thought !  Get  rid  of  her  !  Oh,  listen  to  the 
child  !  Get  rid  of  Mother  Eugenia  !  Heaven  bless  the  little 
dove  !  Get  rid  of  .  .  ."  He  choked  helplessly,  and  stood 
gasping  for  breath. 

"  Alek,  will  you  be  a  dear,  and  do  something  for  me,  if  I 


YOUNG  PEOPLE  AT  PRILUKA  5 

ask  you  nicely  ?"     She  came  a  step  nearer,  and  whispered 
insinuatingly:  "  Give  me  a  bottle  o{  kyas  from  the  well." 

The  old  man  was  sobered  in  a  moment.  He  stared  horror- 
stricken  at  the  girl  as  she  stood  there,  straight  and  slender  in 
her  thin  white  dress,  with  a  heavy  plait  of  thick  brown  hair 
flung  forward  over  one  shoulder. 

"  Are  you  quite  mad,  Barishna  ?  Think  of  Tatiana  Feo- 
dorovna.  .  .  ." 

Katya  laid  a  soft  white  arm  about  his  brown  and  wrinkled 
neck;  her  hair  brushed  against  his  dirty  old  blue  shirt. 

"  Alek,  won't  you,  when  I  ask  you  to  ?  .  .  ." 

"  But  she'll  beat  me,  Barishna — she'll  beat  me  !" 

"  Who  ?    Tanya  ?    Huh  1  I'll  see  to  that !" 

"No,  but  Mother  Eugenia,  Barishna;  she  is  a  devil,  and 
Tatiana  will  tell  her." 

"  Nonsense,  Alek  !  You're  not  afraid  of  an  ugly  old  woman 
— a  fine  strong  fellow  like  you  !  Pull  up  the  basket,  Alek. 
I  only  want  to  see  what's  in  it." 

Sadly  conscience-stricken,  Alexei  proceeded  to  haul  up  the 
basket  from  the  cool  depth  below. 

"  That's  right.  Good  old  Alek  !  Now  let's  see  what  there 
is  for  lunch  to-day.  Vodka — that's  father's;  we  won't  touch 
that  nasty  stuff !  —  and  two  bottles  of  kvas — two  !  Alek, 
that's  not  raspberry  ?" 

Poor  Alek  was  growing  more  and  more  uncomfortable. 
Visions  of  a  wrathful  Tatiana  rose  before  him,  giving  place 
only  to  the  yet  more  potent  fury  of  Mother  Eugenia. 

Katya  was  holding  the  bottles  up  to  the  light,  apparently 
scrutinizing  their  contents*  Suddenly,  before  Alexei  had 
time  to  really  grasp  what  was  happening,  she  was  gone,  off 
and  away  with  her  booty,  flying  like  a  white  deer  across  the 
lawn. 

"  Ekaterina  Sergeievna  !  Barishna  !  Little  lamb,  little 
dove  .  .  .  little  devil !"  Alek  stumbled  despairingly  after 
her,  calling  at  first  in  entreaty,  then  angrily,  and  at  last  half 
crying  with  fear.  But  the  girl  was  already  far  beyond  pur- 
suit. 

On  reaching  the  wing  of  the  house  where  her  own  and  her 
sister's  rooms  were  situated,  Katya  resumed  her  expression  of 
untroubled  innocence,  and  proceeded  to  collect  all  the  glasses 
she  could  find  among  Sonya's  and  her  own  effects.  Then, 


6  KATYA 

hastily  tying  on  an  apron,  she  bundled  the  whole  into  it,  and 
made  for  a  certain  shady  spot  in  the  park.  On  the  way  she 
caught  sight  of  her  father  going  in  to  get  ready  for  lunch,  and 
hid  herself  until  he  had  passed.  Then,  when  everything  was 
ready,  she  called  to  the  others — Sonya,  Sasha,  and  his  friends 
— to  "  come  along — quickly,  now — at  once  !" 

They  made  their  appearance  more  or  less  promptly — Sonya, 
who  had  been  walking  with  Peotr  Konstantinovitch  Orloff 
under  the  big  old  oaks  in  the  avenue ;  Sasha,  who  had  been 
lying  in  a  hammock  with  a  volume  of  poems ;  Vladimir  Alex- 
androvitch  Shipagin  in  a  dazzling  summer  suit  of  rough  silk, 
the  remarkable  qualities  of  which  he  was  expounding  to 
Nikolai  Karatayef,  who  did  not  seem  to  be  paying  much 
attention. 

"  What's  the  matter  ?"  asked  Sonya. 

"I've  got  some  kvas  —  lovely  cold  raspberry  kvas — just 
fished  up  out  of  the  well.  Have  some  ?" 

"  O  Lord  !  is  that  all  ?"  said  Sasha.  "  You  might  as  well 
have  waited  till  lunch." 

Shipagin  didn't  want  any.  "  Not  just  now,  thanks.  Bad 
thing  between  meals,  y'know.  .  .  ."  Petya  Orloff  and  Kara- 
tayef didn't  want  any,  either. 

Katya's  face  hardened.  She  tossed  her  head  impatiently, 
flinging  her  hair  back  over  her  shoulder. 

"  Oh,  very  well ;  just  as  you  like.  I  shan't  take  the  trouble 
another  time." 

"  Where  did  you  get  it  ?"  asked  Sonya,  beginning  to  under- 
stand. But  Orloff  and  Karatayef  had  already  changed  their 
minds,  and  held  out  their  glasses,  anxious  to  propitiate. 
Looked  at  in  that  light,  of  course,  it  was  quite  different : 
kvas  was  the  one  thing  they  most  of  all  desired  at  that 
moment. 

Sonya  repeated  her  question.  But  Katya  was  intently 
occupied  in  learning  to  drink  after  the  fashion  in  vogue 
among  cadets  when  they  have  combined  to  smuggle  a  bottle 
of  champagne  into  their  quarters.  Petya  Orloff  was  demon- 
strating the  method.  "  Glass  at  arm's  length  above  the  mouth, 
head  back — farther  still;  that's  right — and  then  pour  in  a 
straight  stream.  Mustn't  spill  a  drop."  Naturally,  Petya 
had  to  help  her  to  get  her  head  at  the  right  angle,  and  Katya 
did  not  seem  to  mind.  Karatayef  was  racking  his  brains  to 


YOUNG  PEOPLE  AT  PRILUKA  7 

try  and  find  some  custom  prevalent  among  the  students  of 
the  Oriental  Academy  which  he  could  make  an  excuse  for 
taking  a  similar  liberty.  Sonya  declined  to  try,  and  Sasha 
was  evidently  highly  displeased  at  what  was  going  on. 

"  Better  give  it  up,  Ekaterina  Sergeievna,"  said  Shipagin 
in  his  lazy  drawl.  "  Spoil  your  dress,  y'know." 

"  Vladimir,  you  ass  /"  exclaimed  Sasha.  "  If  you  hadn't 
said  anything  she'd  have  stopped  by  herself.  Now  she'll 
keep  on  till  it's  too  late,  just  to  show  that  she  dares." 

"  Keep  your  remarks  to  yourself !"  snapped  out  Katya, 
with  a  furious  glance  at  her  brother.  Then,  turning  to 
Karatayef,  who  had  not  taken  his  eyes  off  her  all  the  time, 
"  You  try,  Nikolai  Nikolaievitch,"  she  said,  with  an  en- 
couraging smile. 

"  No,  don't,"  said  Sonya,  lifting  her  eyes  for  a  moment  to 
glance  at  Karatayef.  The  boy  stood  irresolute,  not  knowing 
which  side  to  take.  Before  he  could  decide,  Katya  had  filled 
a  glass  to  the  brim,  and  was  saying  to  Orloff :  "  Show  me 
properly,  Petya.  You  can  do  it." 

Petya  Orloff  took  the  glass  and  flung  back  his  head.  Kara- 
tayef's  eyes  met  Katya's  .  .  .  she  did  not  so  much  as  look 
at  Orloff. 

"  I  dare  say  it's  easy  enough,"  began  Karatayef  hesitatingly. 

The  luncheon-bell  interrupted  him.  Dimitri  was  standing 
on  the  steps  of  the  terrace  ringing  as  though  to  call  up  the 
whole  of  the  district. 

As  soon  as  the  whole  party  was  assembled  in  the  dining- 
room,  and  all  standing  at  their  respective  places,  the  Prince 
with  his  wife  and  daughters  turned  towards  the  corner  where 
the  eikons  hung,  and  made  a  genuflection,  crossing  them- 
selves as  they  bowed,  the  young  men  going  through  the  same 
movements,  but  with  somewhat  less  solemnity  of  manner. 
Then  followed  a  scraping  of  chairs  and  rattle  of  plates  as  they 
took  their  seats. 

Dimitri  and  the  maid  Ustia  waited  at  table.  Tatiana 
Feodorovna  moved  silently  about  the  room;  her  watchful 
eyes  were  everywhere.  Katya  saw  at  a  glance  that  she  knew 
what  had  happened,  and  was  deeply  offended. 

"  Now  she's  going  to  play  the  martyr  again,"  said  Katya 
to  herself.  Tatiana  Feodorovna  was  eternally  trying  to  per- 
suade the  whole  household,  and  the  Princess  in  particular, 


8  KATYA 

that  she  herself  was  shamefully  wronged.  If  one  of  the  maids 
happened  to  break  a  plate,  or  the  quince  preserve  turned  out 
badly;  if  Alexei  forgot  to  shut  up  the  turkeys  for  the  night, 
or  her  beloved  parrot  Petrushka  took  leave  to  disappear  on 
errands  of  his  own,  such  happenings  were  all  but  demonstra- 
tions of  the  cruel  and  unjust  fate  which  incessantly  persecuted 
her.  Her  little  withered  figure  seemed  to  further  shrink  into 
itself,  and  her  yellow,  wrinkled  old  face  expressed  sorrow  and 
bitter  indignation  at  the  wickedness  of  the  world. 

Katya  had  nodded  pleasantly  to  her  when  she  came  in,  as 
though  nothing  were  the  matter ;  but  the  expression  of  suffer- 
ing patience  only  deepened.  There  was  trouble  brewing. 

Prince  Sergei  led  the  conversation,  as  was  his  custom. 
Even  the  most  commonplace  observations  seemed  somehow 
to  become  weighty  on  his  lips.  He  affected  a  certain  elegant 
solemnity  of  diction. 

"  The  navy,  my  dear  Petya,"  he  began,  directly  addressing 
young  Orloff  the  cadet,  but  with  an  air  which  unmistakably 
indicated  that  the  whole  table  would  be  well  advised  to  listen 
to  his  words — "  the  navy,  my  young  friend,  is  called  upon  to 
play  a  great  part  in  the  history  of  our  country.  This  was 
also  the  opinion  of  your  distinguished  father.  Konstantin 
Mikailovitch  was  frequently  heard  to  regret  that  too  little 
was  done  for  the  navy.  I  am  not  disinclined  to  adhere  to 
that  view." 

"  Tanya,"  said  the  Princess  quietly,  "  you  have  forgotten 
the  kvas,  I  think."  Sonya  glanced  at  Katya,  whose  cheeks 
flushed  suddenly  red.  Only  for  a  moment,  however;  next 
second  she  was  herself  again.  Now  it  was  coming.  Well, 
she  was  ready  ! 

"  I  have  no  cold  kvas  to-day,  Barina.  It  has  been  stolen  !" 
The  last  words  were  uttered  in  a  tone  which  expressed  the 
abysmal  depth  of  this  unutterable  disaster. 

"  Stolen  !"  Prince  Sergei  could  not  believe  his  ears. 
"  You  are  surely  mistaken,  Tatiana.  Stolen  !  And  by 
whom,  may  I  ask  ?" 

"  I  took  it,"  said  Katya  boldly. 

A  strange  hush  had  fallen  upon  the  whole  party.  At  last 
Petya,  unable  to  contain  himself  any  longer,  burst  out  laugh- 
ing. Sasha  followed  suit.  The  Princess  looked  from  one  to 
the  other,  at  a  loss  to  understand  what  it  all  meant. 


YOUNG  PEOPLE  AT  PRILUKA  9 

"  Ahem !"  The  Prince  turned  coldly  to  his  eldest  daughter. 
"  You  will  perhaps  be  kind  enough  to  explain.  .  .  ." 

"  It's  quite  simple,"  said  Katya.  "  I  asked  Tanya  very 
politely  to  give  me  a  glass  of  kvas,  because  I  was  thirsty. 
Of  course,  she  wouldn't;  so  I  just  went  round  to  Alexei  and 
got  all  I  wanted.  And  Alek,  being  only  a  man  ...  it  was 
quite  easy,  papa,  I  assure  you." 

The  young  men  laughed  anew,  but  Sonya  was  frowning. 
"  Katya,  how  can  you  ?  .  .  ."  murmured  the  Princess,  trying 
hard  to  hide  a  smile. 

"  Allow  me  to  say  that  Katya  shared  with  us  all,"  broke 
in  Petya  Orloff  hastily ;  and  for  the  second  time  that  day  Niki 
Karatayef  found  himself  envying  his  companion. 

' '  A  most  irregular  proceeding — most  irregular. ' '  The  Prince 
was  evidently  annoyed.  "  Indeed,  I  scarcely  know  how  pre- 
cisely one  should  deal  with  an  affair  of  such  nature.  And 
your  remarks,  Katya,  on  the  subject  of  men — er,  most  un- 
called for." 

"  My  dear,  the  servants,"  interposed  the  Princess  in  French. 
But  the  Prince  disliked  being  called  to  order,  and  resented 
any  encroachment  upon  his  authority  as  head  of  the  house. 
And  this  child,  who  was  continually  and  obstinately  insub- 
ordinate— it  was  necessary  to  act  with  firmness  and  decision. 

"  I  presume,"  he  said,  addressing  Katya  in  French,  as  a 
slight  concession  to  his  wife,  "  that  you  have  finished  your 
lunch.  You  will  perhaps  have  the  goodness  to  go  to  your 
room,  and  remain  there  for  the  present." 

"  Sergei,  mon  ami."  The  Princess  sent  an  appealing  glance 
towards  her  husband.  But  Katya  had  already  risen.  Pale, 
and  with  close-shut  lips,  she  left  the  room,  moving  with  a 
proud  and  high-strung  steely  grace  that  was  all  her  own. 
As  the  door  closed  behind  her  she  heard  Petya's  voice: 

"  Then  we  ought  all  to  be  sent  to  our  rooms,  Uncle  Sergei." 

Sasha  voiced  the  same  opinion,  but  Karatayef  said  no 
word. 

The  Prince  resumed  his  former  topic,  and  spoke  of  the 
navy,  but  his  eloquence  was  halting  and  his  manner  absent. 
Orloff,  on  his  right,  answered  in  monosyllables;  Sasha,  on 
the  left,  had  all  but  turned  his  back  upon  his  father.  The 
hectic  spots  flushed  fiercely  on  his  cheeks  as  he  expounded 
at  length  and  with  unnecessary  vehemence  the  contents  of  a 


io  KATYA 

poem  he  had  read,  addressing  himself  exclusively  to  his 
mother.  Prince  Sergei  could  not  but  realize  that  the  general 
feeling  was  hostile  to  himself, 

Tatiana  Feodorovna  was  in  like  case.  No  one  even  vouch- 
safed her  a  glance.  Ustia,  the  maid,  even  went  so  far  as  to 
make  a  face  at  her,  and  Dimitri  took  an  opportunity  of 
treading  with  evident  malice  on  her  foot,  Once  more  she  felt 
herself  a  victim  of  a  harsh  and  implacable  fate. 


CHAPTER  II 

WHAT  HAPPENED   TO   PETRUSHKA 

ON  the  way  to  her  place  of  confinement  Katya  was  suddenly 
seized  with  a  bright  idea,  which  made  her  laugh  aloud  in  the 
empty  rooms. 

Swiftly  and  lightly  she  ran  down  the  garden  path  over  to 
the  left  wing  of  the  house,  where  the  servants'  quarters  were, 
and  where  Tatiana  Feodorovna  had  a  pretty  little  room, 
entirely  lined  with  carpets  and  hangings  of  native  make,  and 
filled  with  figures  of  saints  and  portraits  of  the  Prince,  the 
Princess,  and  their  three  children  at  various  stages  of  their 
lives.  Katya  slipped  noiselessly  into  the  room,  and  made 
straight  for  the  big  brass  cage  where  Petrushka  was  con- 
fined while  his  mistress  was  busy  about  the  house.  Petrushka 
was  Tatiana  Feodorovna's  parrot,  a  present  from  Sasha,  who 
had  given  her  the  bird  when  he  went  away  to  study  at  the 
Academy.  Katya  took  the  bird  from  his  perch,  closed  the 
cage  carefully  after  her,  and  hurried  off  with  the  captive 
tightly  clasped  to  her  breast.  The  next  thing  was  to  reach 
her  father's  dressing-room  in  the  opposite  wing,  not  far  from 
the  little  suite  set  apart  for  Sonya  and  herself.  There  were 
many  bottles  and  jars  to  be  opened  and  sniffed  at,  many 
drawers  and  small  cupboards  to  be  opened,  ere  she  found 
what  she  was  seeking. 

A  moment  later  she  stood  in  her  own  room,  hot  and  breath- 
less, but  encouraged  by  sweet  thoughts  of  vengeance.  She 
drew  down  the  blind,  and  locked  the  door. 

"  Aha,  Petrushka,  it's  our  turn  now  !" 

She  rolled  up  her  sleeves,  tied  the  parrot  by  one  leg  to  the 


WHAT  HAPPENED  TO  PETRUSHKA  n 

back  of  a  chair,  routed  out  an  old  nail-brush,  and  sat  herself 
down  astride  the  seat  with  the  air  of  an  artist  at  his  easel. 

Petrushka  was  a  beautiful  bird,  with  bright  green  plumage, 
and  splashes  of  red  on  the  wings.  Carefully  and  with  many 
caresses  Katya  proceeded  to  blacken  him  all  over,  coating 
him  from  head  to  foot  with  the  Prince's  French  hair-dye, 
which,  according  to  the  label,  was  guaranteed  absolutely 
permanent. 

It  was  a  long  business — much  longer  than  she  had  imagined. 
The  first  coat  only  sufficed  to  thinly  veil  the  brilliant  emerald 
of  Petrushka's  feathers.  And  the  stupid  bird  would  not 
keep  still,  but  wriggled  and  shifted  continually,  protesting 
with  particular  vehemence  when  it  became  necessary  to  turn 
him  over  on  his  back,  and  most  undutifully  resisting  the 
somewhat  ungentle  efforts  of  the  girl  to  pull  out  his  wings 
and  paint  him  underneath.  He  chattered  ceaselessly  all  the 
while,  cocking  his  head  awkwardly  on  one  side,  and  growing 
more  and  more  astonished  as  the  bright  feathers  became 
blacker  and  blacker. 

Katya  was  beginning  to  wish  she  had  never  begun.  She 
never  cared  to  spend  much  time  on  the  carrying  out  of  any 
plan;  and,  besides,  it  was  so  messy.  .  .  .  She  could  not 
imagine  how  her  father  could  use  such  nasty  stuff  for  his  hair, 
when  anyone  could  see  it  was  dyed.  .  .  .  He  would  be  furious 
when  he  found  that  the  bottle  was  gone.  And  suppose  it  was 
the  only  one  he  had  !  It  would  take  a  fortnight  at  least — 
three  weeks — to  get  a  fresh  supply  from  Paris,  and  he  would 
never  buy  things  like  that  in  Kief,  Moscow  or  St.  Petersburg. 
And  then  he  would  get  greyer  and  greyer  every  day,  just  as 
Petrushka  was  now  getting  blacker  and  blacker,  and  Sasha's 
friends  would  see  it. 

"  I  don't  care  !  Serve  him  right !"  said  Katya  to  herself, 
busily  blackening  the  down  on  Petrushka's  breast.  "  To 
treat  me  like  that,  before  them  all !  As  if  one  were  a  school- 
girl !  And  I'm  nearly  seventeen,  and  he  knows  it.  If  it  had 
been  Sonya,  he'd  never  have  dared,  and  she's  over  a  year 
younger  than  I  am.  It's  always  me.  .  .  ." 

Katya  was  feeling  very  sorry  for  herself.  She  seldom  cried. 
At  the  Empress's  Convent  School  in  Kief,  where  she  had  been 
from  the  time  she  was  twelve  until  she  was  fifteen,  Elena 
Dolgoruki  had  onoe  told  her  that  she  looked  "  simply  ugly  " 


12  KATYA 

when  she  cried,  while  tears  "  suited  Sonya  splendidly."  Elena 
need  not  talk,  for  she  always  looked  like  a  kitchen-maid,  with 
her  coarse  red  cheeks;  but  as  a  matter  of  fact  Katya  had 
once,  after  a  violent  scene  with  a  young  French  master  at  the 
school,  looked  in  the  glass  and  convinced  herself  that  there 
was  something  in  what  Elena  had  said.  .  .  .  And  it  was 
right  about  Sonya,  too;  so  Katya  never  cried  if  she  could 
possibly  help  it.  And  yet,  sitting  there  alone  with  Petrushka, 
and  remembering  how  cruelly  she  had  been  treated,  she  felt 
her  eyes  beginning  to  fill  with  tears. 

The  brush  moved  with  firm,  regular  strokes  over  Petrushka's 
head,  marking  time,  as  it  were,  and  the  parrot  marvelled, 
wondering  if  this  were  some  new  and  unaccustomed  form  of 
caress,  or  what  it  otherwise  might  signify. 

Katya's  thoughts  were  wandering. 

"  Perhaps  Elena  was  right  about  Sasha  .  .  .  '  always  ill 
and  always  dull,'  she  used  to  say.  He  reads  too  much.  Books 
and  books  and  books,  even  when  his  friends  are  here.  But 
one  can  trust  him.  Sasha's  a  gentleman;  I  don't  care  what 
they  say.  When  Petya  took  my  part  to-day,  Sasha  backed 
him  up  at  once;  and  I  know  he  didn't  think  it  nice  of  me  to 
take  the  silly  stuff,  or  let  Petya  show  me  like  he  did.  Petya  ! 
I  love  Petya.  When  he  was  a  boy,  and  his  father  and  mother 
stayed  with  us  in  Odessa,  I  didn't  like  him.  He  used  to  pinch 
me,  and  pull  my  hair  till  I  cried.  He  never  did  that  to  Sonya, 
and  now  he  can't  keep  away  from  her.  Or  Niki  either.  .  .  . 
Always  following  her  about,  both  of  them.  .  .  .  But  nobody 
cares  a  little  bit  about  me — nobody  !" 

Katya  ceased  painting  for  a  moment,  and  Petrushka  took 
advantage  of  the  pause  to  shake  himself  and  flap  his  wings. 

Next  minute  the  brush  was  once  more  at  work,  absently 
following  Katya's  busy  brain : 

"  They  say  he's  clever,  Niki  Karatayef.  Sasha  thinks  he'll 
do  great  things  in  the  diplomatic  service.  I  don't  believe 
it.  There's  no  getting  anything  out  of  him ;  he  never  knows 
what  to  do  with  himself;  and  he  didn't  stick  up  for  me  to-day. 
Would  not  say  a  word  for  me.  I'll  never  forgive  him  for  that. 
Ugh  !  coward  !  I  hate  him  !" 

The  blackened  bird  had  grown  a  misty  grey.  Katya's 
eyes  were  dimming  fast. 

"  I  shall  have  to  drown  myself,  that's  all,  or  run  away — 


WHAT  HAPPENED  TO  PETRUSHKA     13 

ever  so  far  away — and  then  they'll  be  happy.  I'll  take  Petya 
with  me.  Sasha  wouldn't  do  it,  but  Petya  ...  He  asked 
me  to  himself  once,  in  Odessa,  when  we  were  little.  There 
was  a  Turkish  ship,  and  he  said  the  Captain  was  a  friend  of 
his.  But  suppose  Petya  won't  come  either.  .  .  ." 

It  was  no  good ;  the  tears  would  come.  Katya  surrendered 
to  the  welling  flood,  letting  her  head  fall  hopelessly  upon  her 
bared  arm.  Petrushka,  the  transformed,  sat  perched  upon 
a  chair-back  and  flapped  his  wings  despairingly,  a  stranger 
to  himself. 

All  this  while  Priluka  had  been  in  the  throes  of  domestic 
strife,  and  was  now  a  house  divided  against  itself. 

The  only  one  as  yet  unaffected  by  this  internal  dissension 
was  Prince  Sergei  himself.  After  lunch  he  had  retired,  as 
usual,  to  his  smoking-room  and  private  office  to  read  the 
Novoye  Vremya,  the  Moskovskya  Viadomosti,  and  Le  Temps. 
The  post  arrived  at  Priluka  about  luncheon-time,  brought  by 
a  messenger  on  horseback  from  Dubni,  a  little  town  some  ten 
versts  distant  on  the  narrow-gauge  railway  that  runs  from 
the  Government  town  of  Tshernigof  to  Koronevo,  where  it 
joins  the  Kief-Odessa  line.  Prince  Rilinski  was  a  man  of 
regular  habits,  and  objected  to  being  disturbed  when  busy 
with  his  letters  or  taking  his  afternoon  doze ;  and  to-day,  fore- 
seeing the  possibility  of  an  attempt  on  the  part  of  his  wife, 
or  perhaps  Sasha  and  Sonya,  to  intercede  for  the  culprit, 
he  took  the  precaution  to  send  Dimitri  with  a  French  note 
to  the  Princess: 

"  Katya  will  remain  under  arrest  for  two  hours,  when  I  will 
myself  release  her." 

Then,  well  pleased  with  his  own  severity,  thus  duly  tem- 
pered with  parental  lenience,  he  buried  himself  in  his  papers, 
and  dozed  off. 

The  Princess  read  the  little  note,  and  passed  it  on  to  Sonya 
with  a  sigh.  At  the  same  moment  Tatiana  Feodorovna 
appeared  in  the  doorway,  a  picture  of  injured  virtue. 

"  Petrushka  ^s  gone;  the  cage  is  empty  !" 

Princess  Rilinski  was  a  little  weary  of  Tanya's  everlasting 
troubles,  and  by  no  means  pleased  with  the  way  in  which  she 
had  behaved  at  lunch.  Anastasia  Gregorievna  bore  patiently 


14  KATYA 

the  many  trials  which  illness  and  household  worries  had  laid 
upon  her.  She  was  of  those  who  put  their  faith  in  the  power 
of  affection,  and  lavished  hers  unsparingly  on  those  about  her. 
Not  with  any  demonstrative  assertion,  however,  but  quietly, 
continually,  always  ready  to  forgive  and  understand,  silent 
about  her  own  sorrows,  and  quick  to  catch  the  lightest  breath 
of  plaint  from  others.  Her  children  worshipped  her;  not  a 
soul  on  all  the  broad  estate  but  loved  her.  She  herself  could 
never  understand  what  she  had  done  to  deserve  it. 

Tatiana,  who  had  been  in  her  service  for  many  years,  soon 
perceived  the  shadow  of  impatience  in  the  Princess's  tone  as 
she  answered : 

"  But  surely,  Tanya,  you  ought  to  be  able  to  look  after  the 
bird  yourself  !" 

And  Tanya  felt  that  blows,  even  such  as  her  late  husband 
had  been  wont  to  deal,  would  have  been  less  painful  to  bear 
than  this  slight  coolness  in  her  mistress's  words. 

Tanya  began  to  weep.  All  these  disasters  were  too  much 
for  her  ageing  soul.  Nobody  could  look  after  Petrushka 
better  than  she  did.  The  poor  harmless  bird  was  a  present 
from  her  beloved  Sasha — Sasha,  who  was  as  dear  to  her  as 
her  own  little  child  that  had  been  taken  from  her,  and  would 
never  come  back  again — and  now  Petrushka,  too,  was  gone. . . . 

The  Princess's  momentary  impatience  had  already  passed. 
She  managed  to  make  Tanya  tell  her  story  with  some  degree 
of  coherence.  The  bird  had  been  shut  up  before  lunch,  and 
the  cage  locked ;  after  lunch,  the  cage  was  found  as  locked  as 
ever,  but  Petrushka  was  nowhere  to  be  seen.  Dire  suspicion 
rested  upon  Dimitri  and  Ustia  the  maid,  who  had  behaved 
disgracefully  during  the  meal;  or  possibly  Stefan,  the  old 
cook.  He  had  always  hated  the  parrot,  and  was  in  some 
way  or  other  afraid  of  the  innocent  bird.  Or  it  might  have 
been  one  of  the  kitchen-maids,  or  perhaps,  Tanya  whispered 
brokenly  through  her  sobs,  the  Evil  One  himself.  .  .  . 

There  was  no  help  for  it.  The  Princess  and  Sonya  betook 
themselves  to  the  scene  of  the  disaster.  A  searching  inquiry 
was  held.  All,  however,  protested  their  innocence.  It 
seemed  scarcely  likely,  under  the  circumstances,  that  Pe- 
trushka should  have  slipped  out  himself,  as  he  had  done 
before,  for  a  breath  of  broader  freedom  in  the  park;  neverthe- 
less, a  party  was  despatched  to  make  diligent  search  for  the 


WHAT  HAPPENED  TO  PETRUSHKA      15 

truant.     Objurgations  were  rife,  both  as  to  Tatiana  Feodo- 
rovna  and  the  entirely  innocent  Petrushka. 

Tanya  sat  in  her  room  beside  the  empty  cage,  the  tears 
flowing  brokenly  over  her  wrinkled  yellow  cheeks. 

Meanwhile,  the  four  young  men  had  been  holding  council 
in  "  the  Club  " — a  roomy  summer-house,  furnished  with  com- 
fortable chairs,  and  which  Sasha  and  his  friends  had  grown 
to  consider  as  their  own  particular  retreat. 

Petya  Orloff  suggested  that  they  should  all  go  up  together 
to  Katya's  room,  and  request  permission  to  keep  her  com- 
pany. Sasha  did  not  consider  this  advisable — not  out  of 
any  fear  of  his  father's  anger,  but  because  he  had  an  instinc- 
tive feeling  that  the  Princess  would  disapprove  of  any  such 
demonstration ;  Sonya  possibly  also.  Niki  Karatayef  specu- 
lated long  without  finding  any  plan  which  seemed  at  all 
feasible.  He  thought  for  a  moment  of  their  going  in  a  body 
to  carry  off  the  prisoner,  but  gave  it  up,  partly  because  it 
seemed  rather  a  ridiculous  thing  to  do,  and  also  because  he 
did  not  care  to  be  fourth  man  in  an  enterprise  of  the  sort. 
Shipagin's  contribution  to  the  general  fund  of  ideas  was 
brief : 

"  One  of  you  ride  in  to  Dubni  and  get  her  a  box  of  choco- 
lates from  us  all.  She'll  be  all  right  then." 

Sasha  gave  him  one  glance,  and  thereafter  ignored  his 
existence.  Karatayef  thought  of  duels.  .  .  .  Orloff  ex- 
pressed himself  with  laconic  emphasis:  "  Idiot  I" 

"  As  you  like,"  returned  Shipagin  unperturbed,  and  lit 
another  cigarette. 

Of  course,  one  could  send  her  some  flowers,  or  books,  or 
serenade  her  with  a  song,  or  simply  move  the  chairs  up  out- 
side her  window,  and  entertain  her  as  best  they  could.  And 
playing  ball  from  a  window  was  rather  fun.  .  .  .  Suddenly 
Petya  broke  in  eagerly : 

"  I  know  !  I'll  just  climb  up  the  veranda  and  ask  her 
what  she  would  like." 

"  Petya,  you're  a  trump  !"     Sasha  grasped  his  hand. 

A  moment  later  they  all  stood  beneath  the  window  of 
Katya's  prison.  Orloff  flung  off  his  white  drill  jacket,  and 
swung  himself  like  a  squirrel  up  one  of  the  wooden  pillars 
which  supported  the  balcony  outside  the  two  girls'  rooms. 


16  KATYA 

"  Left  I"  shouted  Sasha  from  below.  "  There,  where  the 
blind's  down." 

Orloff  rapped  with  his  knuckles  on  the  glass.  The  upper 
windows  were  open. 

"  Katya,  it's  me,  Petya,  and  all  of  us.  We've  come  to 
cheer  you  up  !" 

Katya  peeped  out  from  behind  the  curtain.  He  could  see 
she  had  been  crying.  Orloff  felt  his  heart  swelling.  At  that 
moment  he  would  have  given  anything  for  the  right  and 
power  to  comfort  her. 

"  Oh,  damn  it,  Katya,  don't  cry  !  .  .  ."  It  wasn't  in  the 
least  what  he  had  meant  to  say,  but  it  was  out  before  he 
could  think. 

The  blind  fell  back  into  place.  Katya  had  suddenly 
remembered  that  crying  didn't  suit  her. 

Petrushka  flapped  his  wings,  struggling  to  get  free. 

After  a  minute  or  so  the  blind  went  up  half-way,  and  Katya 
appeared — a  new  Katya — her  smiling  face  alight  with  mis- 
chievous merriment,  holding  out  bare  arms  and  blackened 
hands  towards  the  boy. 

"  Petya,  I've  taken  Tanya's  parrot  and  blacked  him  all  over 
with  papa's  hair-dye.  It  was  a  frightful  job.  I'll  give  him 
to  you  in  a  piece  of  paper,  and  if  you  care  the  least  little  bit 
for  me  you'll  put  him  back  in  his  cage  again  without  anyone 
knowing.  Promise,  Petya — solemn  oath  !" 

And  Petya  swore,  adding  a  little  private  expletive  of  admira- 
tion on  his  own  account. 

A  moment  later  he  had  taken  over  the  charge  of  the  in- 
creasingly bewildered  bird,  wrapped  up  in  a  fragment  of  a 
French  fashion  paper,  and  was  sliding  down  to  rejoin  the  con- 
spirators below. 

The  blind  was  lowered  again. 

Shipagin  had  by  this  time  lost  all  interest  in  the  affair, 
and  had  gone  off  by  himself.  Petya  related  the  story  of 
Petrushka's  transfiguration  to  the  two  others,  garnishing  his 
tale  with  yet  more  oaths,  admiring  and  emphatic. 

While  this  was  going  on,  the  search-party  came  in  sight — a 
band  of  girls  and  men,  led  by  Ustia  and  Dimitri,  on  whom 
suspicion  chiefly  rested.  They  moved  across  towards  the 
right  wing  of  the  house,  parting  the  bushes,  shaking  the  trees, 
and  calling  Petrushka  by  name.  Sasha  took  in  the  situa- 


WHAT  HAPPENED  TO  PETRUSHKA     17 

tion  at  a  glance,  and  acted  with  swift  strategic  insight. 
Karatayef  was  deputed  to  "  discover  "  the  parrot  high  up  in 
some  inaccessible  tree-top,  and  hold  the  party  in  check,  on 
no  account  allowing  them  to  leave  the  spot. 

"  You  understand,  Niki.  You  see  the  beast  up  in  a  tree, 
and  make  the  others  see  it.  We'll  do  the  rest." 

Karatayef  had  selected  a  tree  just  outside  Katya's  window, 
and  sent  up  a  triumphant  shout,  "  There  he  is  1"  followed  by 
much  craning  of  necks  and  whispering  query,  "  Where, 
where  ?"  And  Niki,  seeing  Katya's  blind  still  further  raised, 
was  inspired  to  flights  of  high  invention.  "  There,  he's 
moved  to  the  left;  now  he's  hopped  over  on  to  that  little 
thin  branch.  Get  a  ladder  someone.  No,  let  one  of  the  boys 
climb  up.  .  .  ." 

Meanwhile  Sasha,  having  concealed  Petya  in  a  place  of 
vantage  conveniently  adjacent  to  Tatiana  Feodorovna's 
window,  began  shouting  at  the  top  of  his  voice : 

"  Tanya,  open  the  window  1     Tanya  !" 

Soon  the  old  woman's  grey  and  bitter  face  appeared. 

"  What  is  it  now  ?" 

"  Come  down  quickly ;  we've  got  him ;  we  know  where  he  is." 

Tatiana  Feodorovna  hurried  as  fast  as  her  aged  legs  could 
carry  her,  and  followed  Sasha  to  the  high  tree  outside 
Katya's  window.  He,  too,  could  see  the  bird  distinctly,  far 
up  among  the  topmost  foliage. 

By  this  time,  however,  Petrushka  was  once  more  back  in 
his  cage,  and  after  some  much-needed  refreshment,  proceeded 
to  take  what  served  him  for  a  bath.  He  did  not  know  what 
to  make  of  it.  The  colour,  smell,  and  taste  of  his  once  gor- 
geous, cleanly  self  had  changed.  It  was  altogether  a  most 
unsatisfactory  adventure. 

Strangely  enough,  both  Sasha  and  Karatayef  lost  sight  of 
the  bird  as  soon  as  they  were  joined  by  Orloff,  and  after  a 
short  time,  the  others  being  in  like  case,  the  band  moved  off 
to  pursue  the  search  elsewhere. 

Katya's  blind  went  down  again. 

Prince  Sergei  wakened,  rested  and  refreshed,  and  took  his 
way  to  Katya  the  confined.  He  knew  now  exactly  how  he 
would  deal  with  the  affair — treat  it  as  a  trifle,  the  whole 
thing,  with  some  slight  pleasantry  to  banish  possible  tears. 


18  KATYA 

Already  he  saw  himself  pinching  the  girl's  little  pink  ear,  as 
she  nestled  close  to  him,  affectionately  repentant,  whispering 
a  scarcely  audible:  "I'm  sorry,  papa."  A  charming  child, 
but  difficult,  extremely  difficult,  at  times. 

He  knocked  at  the  door.     "Is  anyone  at  home  ?" 

No  answer. 

"  Katya,  my  child,  it  is  I — it's  papa." 

No  answer. 

He  turned  the  handle.    The  door  was  locked. 

"  Open  the  door,  Katya,  dear.  We'll  say  no  more  about 
that  little  affair." 

No  answer. 

Prince  Sergei  was  beginning  to  feel  uneasy.  The  child 
could  never  have  .  .  .  No,  no;  impossible!  And  yet  there 
was  no  knowing  what  girls  of  Katya's  age,  and  with  her  tem- 
perament, might  do.  He  glanced  up  and  down  the  passage. 
There  was  no  one  in  sight.  He  knelt  down,  and  endeavoured 
to  look  through  the  keyhole,  but  in  vain;  the  key  was  in  the 
lock.  Prince  Rilinski  felt  somewhat  ashamed  of  himself. 

"  Katya,  will  you  open  that  door  at  once  ?" 

No  answer. 

This  was  growing  positively  painful.  A  nervous  anxiety 
seized  him.  He  noticed  that  his  hands  trembled. 

"  Katya,  for  Heaven's  sake  let  me  in  1    It's  I,  your  father  !" 

No  answer. 

What  was  to  be  done  ?  Call  the  others  ?  Force  the  door  ? 
If  she  were  only  trying  to  irritate  him,  such  an  action  would 
make  him  look  ridiculous;  and  if  ...  He  shuddered  at  the 
thought  of  what  might  meet  his  eyes.  Anastasia  Grego- 
rievna  would  never  get  over  it;  her  favourite  child.  .  .  . 
And  it  would  be  all  his  fault  for  having  acted  with  undue 
severity.  .  .  . 

"  Katya,  my  darling  ehild,  let  me  in  !" 

No  answer. 

It  was  too  horrible.  If  she  really  had  heard,  she  could  not 
have  continued  to  humble  him  so ;  she  could  not  have  let  him 
suffer  this  agony  of  fear. 

"  Katya,  my  child  !" 

No  answer. 

Prince  Rilinski  groped  his  way  along  the  passage,  leaning 
to  the  wall  with  one  hand  for  support. 


19 

Inside  the  room  Katya  had  been  washing  and  scrubbing  her 
hands  with  pumice-stone  and  toilet  vinegar  until  the  last 
traces  of  the  dye  had  disappeared.  She  had  heard  her  father 
come,  and  taken  in  every  word  that  he  had  said. 

And  now  she  stood  there  flushed  with  sweetest  triumph. 

Stefan  the  cook  found  nothing  remarkable  in  the  fact  that 
Petrushka,  making  light  of  bolt  and  bar,  had  vanished  and 
returned  again  transformed.  He  had  always  maintained  that 
the  bird  was  on  familiar  terms  with  the  Evil  One.  Wherefore 
he  also  refused  to  go  in  and  see  the  prodigal;  there  was  no 
knowing  what  witchcraft  such  changelings  might  wreak  on 
innocent  humanity.  His  fellow-servants,  however,  were  not  so 
squeamish;  maids  and  men  made  pilgrimage  to  Tanya's  room, 
and  stood  at  gaze  before  the  bars  of  polished  brass,behind  which 
black  Petrushka  hopped  ceaselessly  about,  as  though  seeking 
for  his  lost  self.  All  that  remained  to  him  of  former  glory 
was  the  bright  red  ring  about  each  eye.  It  was  not  a  pretty 
sight,  and  no  one  stayed  very  long ;  after  all,  there  might  be 
something  in  what  old  Stefan  said.  It  was  as  well  to  be  careful. 

Even  Tatiana  Feodorovna  herself  felt  somewhat  ill  at  ease. 
It  was  Petrushka  and  not  Petrushka.  He  talked  as  he  had 
done  before,  but  never  before  had  he  looked  at  her  with  such 
a  ghastly  malevolent  eye,  as  though  he  sought  to  cast  some 
spell  upon  her;  and  no  one  could  imagine  how  he  managed 
thus  to  disappear  and  come  again  in  quite  another  guise. 
The  Princess  had  simply  said,  "  Boy's  pranks!" — nothing  more; 
but  Tanya  had  noticed  that  she  also  looked  somewhat  mysti- 
fied. Sonya  had  laughed  excitedly,  which  was  not  like  Sonya 
at  all.  Moreover,  this  was  no  laughing  matter;  for  one 
thing  at  least  was  certain — merciless  Fate  had  once  more 
seen  fit  to  persecute  a  poor  old  woman  who  had  done  nothing 
wrong.  A  vague,  disquieting  feeling  of  estrangement  had 
sprung  up  between  herself  and  the  bird.  She  could  not  even 
be  quite  sure  how  far  that  gloomy  thing  behind  the  bars  was 
the  Petrushka  she  had  known.  In  vain  she  asked,  endear- 
ingly, beseechingly  —  the  creature  only  blinked  at  her  and 
looked  its  swarthy  plumage  up  and  down,  as  if  itself  in  doubt. 

Prince  Rilinski  found  his  wife  and  his  youngest  daughter 
sewing  on  the  veranda,  and  with  more  than  usual  solemnity 
requested  Sonya  to  retire. 


20  KATYA 

"  Sergei !"  The  Princess  looked  up  anxiously.  "  What- 
ever is  the  matter  ?" 

"  My  dear,  I  fear  I  must  prepare  you ..."  It  was  impossible 
to  continue;  he  could  not  tell  her  what  he  scarcely  dared  to 
fear.  He  broke  off,  and  covered  his  face  with  his  hands. 

"  Sergei,  dear,  is  it  the  bank  in  Odessa  ?" 

He  shook  his  head,  and  gasped  out  faintly,  "  Katya  .  .  ." 

"  Oh  God  1    What  has  she  done  ?" 

Breathlessly,  her  heart  at  furious  beat,  Anastasia  Gregori- 
evna  dashed  up  the  stairs  and  through  hall  and  passage  to 
her  daughter's  room. 

"  Katya  !"  she  called,  ere  she  had  reached  the  door. 

"  Oui,  maman  1" 

A  moment  later  Katya  was  in  her  arms,  and  somewhat  at  a 
loss  to  understand  her  mother's  emotion. 

Prince  Sergei  had  followed  his  wife  upstairs,  trembling  all 
over  as  he  went.  At  the  sound  of  Katya's  voice  he  pressed 
both  hands  to  his  side  and  leaned  against  the  wall;  all  his 
strength  seemed  to  have  left  him. 

The  door  stood  open ;  he  could  hear  them  talking.  .  .  . 

"  And  your  poor  father,  Katya — he  thought  ..." 

"  I  must  be  allowed  myself  to  decide  when  and  how  I  am 
to  leave  the  room.  I  am  nearly  seventeen,  and  I  will  not 
submit  to  be  treated  as  papa  did  to-day." 

"  My  child,  you  are  too  obstinate." 

"  I,  mother  ?  Oh  !"  and  with  tears  in  her  eyes  she  flung 
herself  anew  into  her  mother's  arms  and  stroked  and  patted  her 
caressingly.  "  Oh,  if  you  only  knew  how  I  can  love,  mother  !" 

But  a  moment  later  she  burst  out  merrily : 

"  It  serves  him  right,  you  know.  He  should  have  listened 
to  what  I  said.  It  is  so  easy  to  fool  a  man  1" 

Prince  Sergei  stole  quietly  away.     He  wished  to  be  alone. 


CHAPTER  III 

NEW  GUESTS   ARRIVE 

THE  young  men  were  holding  a  meeting  in  the  Club.  The 
Princess  had  announced  that  Elena  Dolgoruki's  and  Elisaveta 
Miliukin's  parents  had  accepted  the  invitation  which  had 


NEW  GUESTS  ARRIVE  21 

been  sent  to  their  daughters,  and  the  two  young  ladies  were 
to  arrive  in  a  few  days'  time. 

The  news  made  a  considerable  impression  at  Priluka,  in 
particular  among  the  members  of  the  Club.  The  arrival  of 
girl  visitors  would  put  an  end  to  the  pleasant  holiday  famili- 
arity of  their  little,  circle.  Shipagin  was  the  only  one  who 
appeared  pleased  at  the  approaching  change;  his  young 
friends  at  Priluka  lacked,  to  his  mind,  the  due  and  proper 
appreciation  of  his  own  elegance  in  dress  and  person.  The 
Prince,  of  course,  was  a  connoisseur  in  such  matters,  but 
neither  Katya  nor  her  sister  ever  seemed  to  even  notice  the 
remarkable  refinement  of  taste  which  he  displayed,  and  such 
observations  as  his  companions  ever  made  upon  the  subject 
were  rather  calculated  to  wound  his  feelings.  Shipagin  was 
therefore  disposed  to  welcome  any  addition  to  the  house-party 
as  at  present  constituted.  In  his  opinion,  the  nobility  of 
Russia  was  going  to  the  dogs. 

Petya  Orloff  was  not  pleased. 

"  What  on  earth  did  your  people  want  to  do  that  for  ?" 
he  said  to  Sasha.  "  They  might  just  as  well  have  asked  my 
sister  over  from  Turkestan.  She's  not  a  beauty,  I  know,  and 
she's  not  much  fun  anyway,  but  at  least  it'd  be  someone 
we  know.  What  the  devil  do  you  suppose  we're  to  do  with 
these  two  female  creatures  ?" 

Karatayef  took  an  equally  gloomy  view.  He  was  not  as 
old  a  friend  of  the  house  as  Petya,  who  had  known  the  Rilinskis 
from  his  childhood ;  this  was  only  his  second  visit  to  Priluka. 
Prince  Rilinski's  acquaintance  with  General  Karatayef  dated 
from  the  time  when  the  former,  on  retirement  from  his  post 
as  Chief  Inspector  of  the  Convent  Schools  under  Her  Imperial 
Majesty's  protection,  had  gone  in  for  building  speculations  in 
Odessa.  The  Prince's  close  business  relations  with  the  old 
General  had  gradually  led  to  a  warm  friendship  between  the 
two  boys.  Alexander  Rilinski  and  Nikolai  Karatayef  shared 
rooms  in  Moscow,  where  they  studied  together;  both  were 
intended  for  the  diplomatic  service,  and  both  showed,  accord- 
ing to  the  testimony  of  their  tutors  and  companions,  promise 
of  a  distinguished  career. 

It  was  not  only  for  Sasha's  sake,  however,  that  Nikolai 
Karatayef  loved  Priluka.  All  through  that  winter  in  Odessa, 
after  his  mother's  death,  Princess  Rilinski  had  treated  him 


22  KATYA 

as  her  own  son,  and  this  he  never  forgot.  The  two  girls  were 
at  school  in  Kief  at  the  time,  and  he  saw  but  little  of  them. 
During  the  previous  summer,  however,  he  had  spent  the  greater 
part  of  two  months  with  them  at  Priluka,  and  since  that  time 
scarce  a  day  had  passed  but  he  had  thought  of  them  with 
affection,  even  longing.  An  only  child,  he  had  until  a  year 
ago  known  no  women  in  his  life  save  his  own  mother  and 
Princess  Rilinski,  with  an  old  aunt,  some  few  girl  students — 
awkward  and  eccentric  creatures  of  advanced  views — and 
one  or  two  ladies  of  doubtful  respectability  in  Moscow.  His 
own  home  was  not  a  happy  one.  After  his  retirement  from 
the  army,  General  Karatayef  had  given  himself  up  entirely 
to  banking  and  the  Bourse.  Nikolai  Nikolaievitch  heard 
everywhere  that  his  father  was  one  of  the  richest  men  in  Odessa, 
but  since  the  death  of  his  wife  the  old  man  had  led  a  retired 
existence,  reducing  even  the  necessaries  of  life  to  a  minimum. 
It  was  against  this  background  of  cheerless  monotony  that 
young  Karatayef  saw  Priluka,  and  it  seemed  to  him  a  palace 
of  dreams.  In  his  eyes  all  the  poetry  and  loveliness  of  all 
Ukraine  were  concentrated  upon  this  one  spot,  where  the  power 
and  splendour  of  womanhood  had  first  been  revealed  to  him. 
His  feelings  for  Katya  and  Sonya,  however,  filled  him  with 
a  strange  unrest.  When  neither  was  present,  the  two  girls' 
pictures  melted  into  one  for  him.  In  a  way,  it  was  most 
often  Katya  whom  he  saw — but  Katya  with  Sonya's  voice  and 
Sonya's  eyes.  It  was  all  horribly  mixed  up  somehow.  He 
liked  best  to  talk  to  Sonya  of  his  studies,  his  plans  and  hopes 
for  the  future,  and  of  the  gloomy  recollections  of  his  child- 
hood; but  it  was  Katya  he  wanted  to  answer  him — Katya 
who  should  praise  his  work,  and  promise  him  a  splendid 
future,  driving  away  all  dreary  humours  with  her  bright, 
mischievous  merriment.  He  liked  to  row  and  ride  with  Katya ; 
it  was  Katya's  admiration  that  he  courted  whenever  he  did 
any  clever,  or,  in  particular,  any  daring  thing.  But  it  must  be 
quite  understood  that  as  soon  as  they  were  back  again  at  home, 
and  sport  and  break-neck  feats  over  for  the  day,  then  Katya 
must  change  to  Sonya,  sitting  quietly  sewing  at  her  mother's 
side  or  reading  aloud  with  her  clear  soft  voice,  or  playing  and 
singing  the  old  songs  of  the  Cossack  lover  taking  leave  of  his 
beloved  ere  he  rides  away.  For  Katya  he  would  fight  against 
all  who  were  stronger  than  himself,  and  win  his  way  to  honour, 


NEW  GUESTS  ARRIVE  23 

fame,  and  wealth ;  but  it  should  be  Sonya  who  made  rest  for 
him  when  he  returned  from  wild  and  fearsome  adventure, 
and  had  laid  the  booty  won  at  Katya's  feet. 

Here  at  Priluka,  in  the  sunlit,  sane  reality  of  summer,  it 
was  easier  to  keep  the  two  identities  apart ;  his  own  feelings, 
however,  were  still  as  hopelessly  involved.  The  momentary 
presence  of  either  was  sufficient  to  convince  him  that  she, 
and  she  only,  was  to  be  desired,  and  make  it  a  matter  of 
wonder  to  himself  that  ever  he  should  have  been  in  doubt; 
but  the  sight  of  both  together  wrought  upon  him  strangely, 
leaving  him  utterly  mazed.  He  was  perfectly  aware  of  his 
own  awkwardness;  he  knew  that  his  behaviour  was  at  times 
entirely  foolish;  he  even  fancied  he  could  read,  now  in  the  eyes 
of  one,  now  of  the  other,  their  scorn  of  his  own  craven  inde- 
cision, and  yet,  not  for  all  the  world  would  he  renounce  this 
summer  at  Priluka.  He  was  twenty-two,  and  in  love — pain- 
fully and  confusedly,  it  is  true,  yet  not  less  firmly  meshed  in 
the  magic  web — and  there  was  all  the  future  before  him  to 
deal  with  riddles. 

And  this  secret  shrine  was  now  to  be  ruthlessly  invaded. 
It  was  bad  enough  to  have  Shipagin  there,  but  there  was  no 
necessity  to  be  polite  to  him. 

"  Who  are  they,  these  girls  ?"  asked  Karatayef  gloomily. 

"  Two  of  my  sisters'  schoolfellows  from  Kief,"  replied 
Sasha.  "  Quite  presentable  young  ladies,  of  good  family." 

"  My  dear  Niki,"  interposed  Shipagin,  "  before  you  can 
hope  to  render  any  signal  service  to  your  country  in  the  field 
of  diplomacy,  you  will  have  to  improve  your  education.  A 
young  man  of  promise  ought  not  to  be  ignorant  of  the  family 
history  attaching  to  such  names  as  Dolgoruki  and  Miliukin." 

"  There's  any  amount  of  Dolgorukis.  Of  course  I  know 
there's  a  Miliukin  who's  ambassador  in  Paris,  but  how  am  I 
to  know  if  its  Elisaveta's  father  or  not  ?" 

"  Well,  he  is;  so  you  and  Sasha  had  better  be  on  your  best 
behaviour.  He  may  be  made  Minister  for  Foreign  Affairs 
at  any  moment.  From  a  political  point  of  view,  Elena  Ivan- 
ovna  is  less  interesting;  but  she'll  have  a  million  roubles — 
always  provided  that  the  Count,  her  father,  remains  content 
with  the  two  children  who  are  the  present  offspring  of  his 
lawful  marriage  with  a  Polish  music-hall  artist.  Elena  has 
an  elder  brother,  Gavriil.  .  .  ." 


24  KATYA 

"  Oh,  is  it  Vera  Nadeshda's  Dolgoruki  ?" 

"  Exactly;  but  there's  no  fear  of  Elena  Ivanovna's  following 
in  her  mother's  footsteps.  Except,  perhaps,  in  Holland,  no 
music-hall  would  have  her." 

"  Kindly  remember,  Vladimir,  that  the  young  lady  is  my 
parents'  guest,  and  my  sisters'  friend,"  said  Sasha  coldly. 

"  Heaven  preserve  us,  my  dear  fellow  !  I'm  only  explaining 
the  situation.  Niki  doesn't  know." 

"  But  what  on  earth  do  we  want  to  have  them  for  at  all  ?" 
asked  Petya  irritably.  "  We  were  having  the  jolliest  time  by 
ourselves — now  it'll  all  be  spoiled." 

"  '  It  is  not  good  for  man  to  be  alone,'  "  said  Sasha,  with 
his  gentle,  weary  smile. 

"Alone?  We've  Katya  and  Sonya.  What  more  do  you  want?" 

Karatayef  breathed  a  scarcely  audible  assent. 

"  I  wasn't  thinking  of  us.  I  mean  it's  not  good  for  Katya 
and  Sonya  to  be  alone  among  the  beasts  of  the  field." 

"  Or  for  the  beasts  of  the  field  to  be  alone  with  Katya  and 
Sonya,"  added  Shipagin.  "  Your  mother's  a  clever  woman, 
Sasha." 

Karatayef  flushed  uncomfortably.  He  fancied  Sasha  had 
looked  over-closely  at  him. 

Petya  Orloff  had  meanwhile  settled  the  matter  in  his  own 
mind.  "  Well,  I  don't  care,  anyway,"  he  said.  "  They  can 
send  us  twenty  schoolgirls,  if  they  like;  things'll  just  go  on  as 
Katya  wrants." 

The  preparations  for  the  expected  visit  of  the  two  young 
ladies  set  all  the  household  at  Priluka  in  motion.  Tatiana 
Feodorovna  took  out  some  beautiful  old  silver  which  was 
only  used  on  special  occasions.  Dimitri  went  three  times 
to  Dubni  to  try  on  a  new  livery,  the  Jewish  tailor  testifying 
his  admiration  by  repeated  ejaculations  of  "  Wunderbar  !" 
which  Dimitri  took  to  be  the  Yiddish  word  for  "  waistcoat." 
Alexei,  with  Mother  Eugenia  and  a  swarm  of  children  of 
various  parentage  and  origin,  were  busy  weeding,  raking,  and 
sweeping  all  over  the  park.  The  post  from  Dubni  brought 
innumerable  parcels,  and  it  was  known  that  Stefan  in  his 
kitchen  was  occupied  with  new  and  wondrous  culinary  ex- 
periments. 

As  a  rule  the  daily  round  of  things  at  Priluka  went  on  in 


NEW  GUESTS  ARRIVE  25 

an  old-fashioned,  almost  patriarchal  fashion.  The  palace, 
with  stables,  cottages,  and  outbuildings,  though  covering  a 
large  extent  of  ground,  seemed  to  house  but  one  large  family. 
The  cold  and  distinct  division  into  classes  which  is  customary 
on  English  estates  was  unknown  at  Priluka,  as,  indeed, 
everywhere  in  Russia.  The  barriers  between  master  and 
servant,  never  too  sharply  denned,  were  rendered  yet  more 
vague  by  the  close  contact  of  daily  life.  On  neither  side  was 
there  the  slightest  fear  that  the  familiarity  of  tone  which, 
in  spite  of  the  continual  use  of  more  or  less  high-sounding 
titles,  characterized  their  relations  to  each  other,  could  ever 
lead  to  any  abuse  or  neglect  of  responsibility  or  due  respect. 
The  household  at  Priluka  consisted  of  the  Barin  and  Barina 
(master  and  mistress)  with  various  younger  beings  of  like 
rank,  and  thereafter  all  the  other  living  souls  on  the  estate. 
These  latter,  however,  recognized  the  distance  which  separ- 
ated them  from  the  lords  of  the  soil  as  well  as  they  knew 
their  prayers,  and  regarded  the  established  order  of  things 
as  a  Divine  ordination,  which  had  existed  from  time  imme- 
morial, and  which  it  would  never  have  occurred  to  them  to 
question.  There  was  no  slightest  tinge  of  friction  in  their 
relations;  nothing,  indeed,  to  call  attention  to  the  existence 
of  any  relation  at  all.  Nearly  every  evening,  when  the  family 
were  assembled  for  tea  at  the  close  of  the  day,  two  or  three 
of  the  old  servants  would  come  in — Stefan  the  cook,  and 
Mikailo  the  coachman,  with  the  steward,  perhaps,  or  one  of 
the  foresters;  there  were  orders  to  be  given,  or  happenings 
to  report.  They  would  remain  standing  in  the  doorway,  hat 
in  hand,  but  only  until  Tatiana  Feodorovna  had  placed  chairs 
for  them  at  the  table;  then  the  Prince  or  Princess  would  invite 
them  to  sit  down,  the  tea  was  passed  round,  and  often  the 
Prince  or  his  son,  or  one  of  the  young  guests,  would  offer  them 
a  cigarette,  and  talk  flowed  easily,  as  between  those  who 
know  and  trust  each  other.  Few  among  the  servants  could 
read  or  write,  but  they  had  the  natural  intelligence  and  quick- 
ness of  perception  common  to  their  race,  with  its  vein  of 
quaint  humour  and  wealth  of  feeling;  and  in  this  quiet  and 
natural  freedom  from  constraint,  without  any  oppressive 
consciousness  of  favour  or  condescension,  they  felt  themselves 
entirely  at  their  ease  in  the  presence  of  the  Barin  and  Barina, 
who,  in  their  turn,  enjoyed  a  kindred  feeling. 


26  KATYA 

This  everyday  simplicity,  however,  was  interrupted  from 
time  to  time  by  periods  of  festivity,  when  Priluka  displayed 
a  boundless  magnificence.  Sasha  had  once  hit  upon  a  generic 
title  for  these  volcanic  eruptions;  he  called  them  "  Eagle 
Days,"  because  his  father  on  such  occasions  was  wont  to 
appear  in  court  dress  of  imposing  splendour,  heavy  with  gold, 
and  decorated  with  the  Grand  Cross  and  Star  of  the  Order 
of  the  White  Eagle.  The  Princess  wore  a  dazzling  selection 
of  jewels;  her  pearls  and  diamonds,  heirlooms  in  the  family, 
were  known  far  and  wide,  and  the  Rilinski  emeralds  had  on 
one  occasion,  at  a  Court  ball,  attracted  the  attention  of  the 
Empress  herself.  The  splendid  set  of  turquoise  stones,  which 
had  belonged  to  the  family  for  generations,  were  said  to  have 
formed  part  of  the  booty  taken  from  the  Turks  in  a  Balkan 
campaign  far  back  in  the  fourteenth  century,  from  which  the 
Rilinskis  took  the  name  that  marked  their  Servian  origin, 
and  which  is  still  to  be  found  in  Bosnian  place-names,  as  well 
as  in  the  folk-songs  of  the  country,  where  it  ranks  with  those 
of  the  Niemanids  and  the  great  Tsar  Stefan  Dushan. 

On  these  days,  also,  the  old  silver  was  taken  out,  and  the 
innumerable  pieces  of  old  enamel  work,  both  useful  and  orna- 
mental, that  lay  hidden  away  in  drawers  and  cupboards,  to 
which  Tatiana  Feodorovna  alone  possessed  the  keys.  In  the 
two  corridors  which  led  from  the  crescent-shaped  main  build- 
ing to  the  rooms  in  either  wing,  stood  long  rows  of  great 
chests,  filled  with  native  embroidery  and  hand-loom  work, 
some  of  which  dated  from  the  time  when  Ukraine  formed  part 
of  the  Kingdom  of  Poland;  these  treasures  were  routed  out 
and  spread  about  the  rooms  in  many-coloured  profusion. 
The  plain  simplicity  of  Priluka,  with  its  everyday  furniture, 
chiefly  imitations,  made  in  Kief,  of  German  models  from  the 
fifties  was  lost  beneath  all  this  splendour ;  the  place  was  filled 
with  an  atmosphere  of  ancestral  and  local  history.  Not  a 
carpet,  not  a  cushioned  corner  but  told  some  tale  of  long- 
forgotten  days.  The  heavy  silver  things  and  vessels  of 
strangely  worked  enamel,  the  ancient  eikons  set  with  precious 
stones,  the  great  candelabra  with  their  pyramids  of  candles, 
and  the  dazzling  richness  of  the  family  jewels — all  these  com- 
bined to  make  a  picture  of  barbaric  Eastern  beauty,  lit  by  the 
romance  of  the  past,  and  lightly  touched  with  the  mellowing 
tinge  of  faded  centuries. 


NEW  GUESTS  ARRIVE  27 

True  to  Russian  tradition,  meat  and  drink  were  served  on 
such  occasions  in  generous  extravagance,  and  heavy,  highly 
flavoured  dishes  were  the  rule.  Meals  rarely  consisted  of 
many  courses,  but  each  course  was  a  mountain  of  food. 

The  general  daily  life  at  Priluka  might  be  marked  by  a 
certain  economy  in  trifles,  such  as  the  serving  of  dessert  in 
small  helpings,  or  a  restriction  in  the  matter  of  sugar,  and 
wine  was  rarely  seen ;  but  whenever  Priluka  entertained,  there 
was  more  than  abundance  of  everything  in  the  shape  of  food, 
and  champagne  flowed  in  unstinted  streams,  side  by  side 
with  vodka.  The  mixture  seemed  to  suit  the  taste  of  the 
guests,  who  were  so  hospitably  plied  therewith  as  to  retain 
a  long-lived  recollection  of  the  feast. 

Festivities  of  this  sort  were  admirably  suited  for  the  en- 
tertainment of  the  landed  nobility  of  the  neighbourhood,  with 
army  men  and  officers  of  gendarmerie,  Government  officials 
from  Tshernigof,  and  such  other  guests  as  the  countryside 
could  furnish — all  people  far  inferior  both  in  birth  and  position 
to  Prince  Rilinski  and  his  wife,  a  daughter  of  the  famous 
General  Vlasof,  who  had  been  one  of  the  heroes  of  the  Crimean 
War,  and  who  had  been  chief  of  the  staff  of  two  Emperors. 
But  something  more  was  necessary  when  it  was  a  question  of 
receiving  the  daughters  of  the  houses  of  Miliukin  and  Dolgo- 
ruki — young  ladies  who,  by  virtue  of  birth,  wealth,  and  educa- 
tion, belonged  to  the  first  society  of  the  capital,  and  who 
had  spent  more  time  in  Western  Europe  than  in  Russia  itself. 
True,  there  was  a  slight  blot  on  the  scutcheon  in  the  case  of 
Elena  Dolgoruki,  as  Shipagin  had  pointed  out  to  Karatayef. 
"  Vera  Nadeshda  "  had  been  a  music-hall  singer  of  renown, 
and  her  name  had  been  coupled  with  those  of  many  wealthy 
young  merchants  or  officers  of  the  Guards.  All  this,  however, 
belonged  to  a  period  some  eighteen  or  twenty  years  back,  and 
in  Russia  such  things  are  more  easily  forgiven  and  forgotten 
than  elsewhere.  Moreover,  Vera  Nadeshda  had  proved  a 
model  Countess.  Her  piety  was  a  shining  example  to  her 
surroundings.  Shortly  before  her  marriage  she  had  forsaken 
the  Church  of  Rome  and  gone  over  to  Orthodoxy,  and  on 
entering  her  new  dignity  she  had  thrown  herself  zealously 
into  charitable  work,  under  the  auspices  of  the  higher  clergy ; 
wherefore  more  than  one  prelate  of  rank  might  be  heard  to 
refer  to  her  as  "  his  excellent  friend."  With  rare  audacity, 


28  KATYA 

also,  she  had  made  a  swift  transition  from  wife  to  matron; 
quite  suddenly,  without  warning  or  apparent  reason,  she  had 
surrendered  at  discretion,  declining  to  fight  longer  for  the 
preservation  of  what  remained  to  her  of  youthful  charm. 
Her  hair  became  grey  between  a  dinner  and  the  following 
lunch,  and  all  the  traces  of  advancing  age  were  permitted  to 
manifest  themselves  without  concealment.  Everything  that 
served  to  remind  one  of  Vera  Nadeshda  was  erased,  and  only 
the  pious  dignity  of  the  Countess  Dolgoruki  remained.  Her 
children  were  well  received  in  the  first  houses  of  the  country, 
and  Elena's  bosom  friend,  Elisaveta  Vasilievna  Miliukin, 
daughter  of  the  Russian  Ambassador  in  Paris,  was  now  a 
guest  under  the  roof  of  Count  and  Countess  Dolgoruki.  The 
visit  of  the  two  young  ladies  was  thus  an  honour  worthy  of 
the  house  of  Rilinski,  and  as  such  must  be  celebrated  by  a 
certain  departure  from  the  simple  living  of  every  day.  It 
was,  moreover,  a  necessary  concession  to  the  altered  manners 
of  the  age;  the  younger  generation  at  Priluka  would  be  called 
upon  to  live  another  life  than  their  parents  had  done.  Prince 
Sergei  had  his  children's  future  happiness  at  heart,  by  which 
he  understood  a  distinguished  career  for  Sasha — if  it  should 
please  God  to  spare  him — and  successful  marriages  for  all 
three  of  them.  However  much  they  now  might  hold  by  their 
own  house,  with  its  traditions,  and  prefer  the  companionship 
of  the  few  friends  now  among  them,  the  time  would  come  when 
they  would  recognize  the  wisdom  of  those  ideas  which  their 
parents  now  were  planning  and  striving  to  realize  for 
them. 

Prince  Sergei  turned  a  sympathetic  ear  to  his  wife's  homilies 
upon  the  inadvisability  of  leaving  their  two  daughters  early 
and  late  to  the  companionship  of  young  men  who  simply  could 
not  help  falling  in  love  with  them.  They  needed  girl  friends 
of  their  own  age.  Moreover,  all  of  them,  but  Sasha  in  par- 
ticular, needed  to  familiarize  themselves  with  the  tone  and 
manner  customary  among  young  men  and  women  of  good 
family,  which  was  set  aside  in  the  intimate  companionship  of 
sisters  and  boy  friends. 

The  more  Prince  Sergei  thought  over  these  observations  of 
his  wife's,  the  more  importance  did  he  attach  to  her  ideas. 
Something  ought  certainly  to  be  done  to  prevent  the  intimacy 
which  already  existed  between  his  two  daughters  and  Sasha's 


NEW  GUESTS  ARRIVE  29 

friends  from  reaching  a  point  where  it  might  become  dangerous. 
Shipagin  would  of  course  do  no  harm,  but,  on  the  other  hand, 
he  did  not  seem  likely  to  do  any  good.  He  was  the  son  of  one 
of  the  largest  landowners  in  the  province,  a  man  of  immense 
wealth,  with  whom  Prince  Rilinski  had  been  on  terms  of 
intimacy  for  many  years,  until  drunkenness  and  eccentricity 
had  rendered  it  impossible  to  associate  with  him.  Alexander 
Shipagin  was  firmly  convinced  that  he  was  a  poet,  and  poet 
he  may  have  been,  though  no  living  soul  had  ever  been  found 
who  had  read  or  heard  a  line  that  he  had  written.  Some- 
thing at  least  he  must  be  supposed  to  have  produced  in  the 
periods  when  he  shut  himself  up  for  days  together,  receiving 
his  food  through  a  grating  in  the  door,  like  a  captive  in  a 
romantic  novel.  At  times  he  might  be  heard  groaning  and 
moaning  in  his  cell,  until  his  poor  wife,  Maria  Petrovna,  whose 
one  object  in  life  was  to  avoid  observation,  was  constrained 
to  knock  at  his  door  and  call  through  the  grating  to  ask  if 
he  desired  a  priest  or  a  doctor  to  be  sent  for.  On  which  the 
poet  would  bang  the  shutter  to,  giving  vent  to  yet  more 
piercing  howls,  and  shouting  violently  in  a  language  which 
she  did  not  understand.  These  attacks  were  always  preceded 
by  periods  when  Alexander  Shipagin  went  about  in  a  sort 
of  ecstacy,  moving  in  a  world  removed  from  earth ;  he  talked 
with  saints  and  angels,  and  his  manner  was  most  divinely 
mild.  After  the  crisis  had  passed,  however,  he  would  begin 
to  drink,  and  not  be  sober  for  days,  neglecting  his  person  in 
such  a  degree  as  to  disgust  the  servants  whose  duty  it  became 
to  drag  him  off  to  bed.  He  scarcely  exchanged  a  word  with 
his  only  son  from  one  year's  end  to  another,  nor  did  either 
ever  write.  Vladimir  was  the  antithesis  of  his  father.  Even 
Princess  Rilinski,  who  judged  all  men  mildly,  and  who  had 
done  what  she  could  to  help  him  since  the  days  when  he  was 
a  lonely  child,  was  forced  to  admit  that  he  was  far  from 
intelligent,  and  thought  too  much  of  himself.  His  one  am- 
bition appeared  to  be  perfect  neatness — or  rather  "  correct- 
ness "  in  dress.  It  would  almost  seem  that  he  endeavoured 
to  wipe  out  his  father's  irregularities  of  conduct  by  a  scrupu- 
lously decorous  behaviour,  and  to  atone  for — or  revenge — 
the  sordid  dinginess  of  his  home  by  an  exaggerated  cleanliness 
in  his  person. 

Ever  since  young  Karatayef  had  been  included  in  the 


30  KATYA 

young  people's  circle,  the  Princess  had  been  careful  to  neglect 

no  opportunity  of  inviting  Vladimir;  she  preferred  to  have 

three  young  men  besides  Sasha  at  Priluka  rather  than  two 

only.     Whatever  hopes  she  may  have  entertained  in  this 

direction   with  regard  to  Vladimir  Shipagin  were,  however, 

disappointed.     Katya  and  Sonya  never  seemed  to  notice  his 

presence;  Sasha  did  not  like  him;    and   Petya  Orloff  and 

Karatayef  despised   him.     Meanwhile,   the  intimacy  which 

existed  between  the  daughters  of  the  house  and  Sasha's  two 

friends  grew  closer  every  day.     Prince  Sergei  was  obliged  to 

admit  that  he  had  not  fully  realized  this  until  it  had  been 

pointed  out  to  him  by  his  wife.     But  recent  events — even 

such  trifles  as  the  affair  of  the  kvas,  and  the  subsequent 

episode  with  Petrushka — had  brought  to  light  a  degree  of 

intimacy  between  people  of  that  age  which  could  scarcely  be 

regarded  with  complacency.     And  Prince  Sergei  had  no  desire 

to  see  either  of  his  daughters  attached  by  either  Petya  Orloff 

or  Nikolai  Karatayef.     Petya  he  considered  almost  in  the  light 

of  a  son,  a  ward  entrusted  to  him  by  his  old  friend,  Admiral 

Konstantin  Orloff,  who  in  the  days  of  Alexander  II.  had  done 

more  than  any  other  man  in  Russia  for  the  development  of 

the  Black  Sea  fleet.     Admiral  Orloff  had  been  a  perfect  type 

of  Russian  gentleman  of  the  old  school,  a  man  of  great  and 

kindly  heart,  always  ready  to  make  allowances  for  others, 

and  with  a  modesty  of  manner  which  approached  humility, 

despite  the  iron  will  that  no  human  power  could  bend  from  its 

purpose.     Had   he  but  lived,    Prince   Rilinski  would   have 

been  spared  much  of  the  anxiety  which  now  oppressed  him. 

For  the  old  Admiral — perhaps  the  only  man  who  possessed 

any  influence  over  Sergei  Arkadievitch — would  certainly  have 

dissuaded  him  from  the  speculative  operations  in   Odessa 

which  now  bound  Prince  Rilinski  to  General  Karatayef,  and 

in  which  most  of  his  own,  his  wife's,  and  his  children's  fortune 

was  at  stake.     But  Konstantin  Orloff  knew  nothing  of  finance 

— money  was  the  one  thing  in  the  world  he  least  knew  how 

to  manage.     Of  the  little  he  had  left  behind,  half  had  gone 

to  provide  for  his  daughter  Olga  on  her  marriage  to  a  penniless 

young  officer  of  artillery  in  Turkestan,  and  it  was  necessary 

to  husband  the  remainder  with  care  if  it  was  to  suffice  for 

the  expenses  of  Petya's  military  education.     Prince  Sergei 

was  Petya's  guardian.  And  the  boy  should  never  lack  a  helping 


NEW  GUESTS  ARRIVE  31 

hand  as  long  as  he  needed  one;  that  was  the  least  tribute  he 
could  pay  to  the  memory  of  his  dead  friend.  Moreover,  Petya 
was  a  fine  young  fellow :  a  frank  and  open  nature,  kindly  and 
gentle,  easily  led,  and  at  times  a  little  wild,  but  always,  even 
in  his  most  reckless  moments,  chivalrous  in  a  boyish,  winning 
way  which  made  men  as  well  as  woman  love  him.  Prince 
Sergei  was  very  fond  of  Petya.  But  as  a  son-in-law  .  .  . 
Petya  might  in  a  year's  time  become  an  officer  in  the  navy, 
without  a  single  rouble  beyond  his  pay.  It  was  not  to  be 
thought  of.  And  the  Prince  was  quite  convinced  that  neither 
of  his  daughters  could  ever  be  so  imprudent.  .  .  . 

Anastasia  Gregorievna  had  said  something  about  Sonya  and 
Niki  Karatayef.  This  idea  he  resolutely  declined  to  enter- 
tain. A  girl  of  fifteen  1  Nothing  but  childish  fancy,  to  be 
got  rid  of  as  soon  as  possible.  And  if  that  young  rascal 
dared.  .  . .  Here  his  wife  interrupted  him,  with  right,  as  usual, 
on  her  side.  Nikolai  Karatayef  was  no  rascal.  Awkward 
perhaps,  and  shy,  and  somewhat  heavy,  and  yet,  in  spite  of 
a  touch  of  melancholy  in  his  regular  features,  healthy  and 
robust,  with  the  strong,  hot  blood  of  peasant  stock,  a  con- 
trast alike  to  poor,  pale,  quiet  Sasha,  the  gentle  Petya,  and 
Shipagin,  with  his  ridiculous  vanity.  But  Niki  was  a  clever  boy 
and  a  good  comrade,  who  had  had  a  good  influence  on  Sasha, 
and  well  deserved  his  friendship.  All  this  Prince  Sergei  was 
forced  to  admit,  and  when  his  wife  looked  up  at  him  with  that 
quiet,  persistent  interrogation  which  he  knew  so  well,  and 
asked  him  why  he  was  so  violently  opposed  to  the  idea,  he 
could  only  answer  that  he  did  not  like  the  boy.  And  this 
good  reason  sounded  strangely  like  a  very  poor  excuse. 
Anastasia  Gregorievna  said  nothing,  but  he  knew  she  had 
divined  his  thought,  and  the  knowledge  served  to  further 
fan  the  growing  flame  of  his  ill-will  towards  the  man  who 
had  gradually  got  him  into  his  power.  The  very  thought  of 
his  business  connection  with  General  Karatayef  was  painful 
to  Prince  Sergei.  It  was  as  inexplicable  to  himself  as  to 
others  that  he  should  ever  have  come  to  stand  in  such  relation 
to  this  retired  chief  of  the  Army  Supply  Corps.  Prince 
Rilinski  was  a  tall,  broad-shouldered  man,  well-built,  well- 
dressed,  and  ;with  a  refined  dignity  of  manner.  He  was 
regarded  as  a  grand  seigneur,  and  did  his  best  to  live  up  to  his 
reputation.  General  Karatayef  went  about  in  his  old  worn 


32  KATYA 

uniform,  which,  as  his  meagre  figure  gradually  shrank,  became 
more  and  more  disproportionate  to  his  personal  dimensions. 
He  had  a  habit  of  shaking  himself  and  gathering  his  loose 
clothes  round  him,  as  if  continually  suffering  from  cold.  He 
was  nervously  restless  at  all  times,  now  fidgeting  absently 
with  the  Cross  of  the  Vladimir  Order  which  he  wore  round  his 
neck,  now  stroking  his  bald  head,  and  ever  and  anew  stooping 
to  pick  up  some  trifle  from  the  floor — a  pin,  a  thread,  any- 
thing which  his  sharp  eyes  sighted  and  his  quick,  lean  fingers 
could  grasp.  Manifold  rumours  sought  to  explain  the  source  of 
General  Karatayef's  wealth;  but  he  had  sent  in  his  resignation 
entirely  of  his  own  accord,  and  had  left  the  service  with  every 
mark  of  honour.  No  one  could  reproach  him  with  anything  ; 
even  Prince  Sergei  himself  was  unable  to  find  a  single  plausible 
count  on  which  to  indict  him.  He  had,  against  good  security, 
and  through  the  agency  of  a  first-class  banking-house,  ad- 
vanced the  Prince  the  necessary  moneys  for  his  building 
speculations  in  Odessa.  The  sums  involved  were  considerable. 
But  General  Karatayef,  far  from  inducing  his  friend  to 
speculate,  had  rather  attempted  to  dissuade  him,  especially 
as  the  Prince's  method  of  doing  business,  in  common  with 
that  of  most  Russians  of  rank,  consisted  in  entrusting  the 
management  of  his  affairs  to  a  confidential  agent,  invariably 
a  Jew,  without  in  the  least  concerning  himself  personally 
with  the  work.  The  only  thing  which  could  be  alleged  against 
the  General  was  that,  as  a  landlord  owning  extensive  property 
in  the  new  quarter  then  growing  up  to  the  north-west  of  the 
Old  Harbour  in  Odessa,  where  Prince  Rilinski's  ground  was 
situated,  he  had  expressed  such  confidence  in  the  project  that 
the  Prince  had  been  persuaded  to  invest  more  than  he  could 
afford  to  lose  if  things  went  wrong.  Sergei  Arkadievitch  was, 
however,  competent  to  take  upon  himself  the  responsibility 
for  his  actions.  General  Karatayef  was  obliged  to  admit  the 
truth  of  the  Prince's  argument  that  he  himself  must  be  the 
best  judge  of  what  was  to  his  own  advantage,  and  that  if  the 
fortune  of  the  family  was  to  be  augmented  in  order  to  meet 
the  increased  demands  which  Sasha's  introduction  to  the 
diplomatic  service  and  the  marriage  of  the  two  girls  would 
inevitably  make  upon  his  resources,  it  were  best  to  act  at 
once,  while  the  children  were  yet  young.  It  is  possible  that 
General  Karatayef  would  have  hesitated  thus  to  stake  every- 


NEW  GUESTS  ARRIVE  33 

thing  on  one  card — there  were  other  promising  speculations 
to  be  found  in  Odessa.  But  the  Prince's  enthusiasm  had 
doubtless  infected  him;  moreover,  everything  went  sur- 
prisingly well  at  the  start,  owing  to  the  favourable  condition 
of  the  money-market  at  the  close  of  the  eighties,  when  native 
industries,  especially  in  Southern  Russia,  were  advancing  by 
leaps  and  bounds.  It  almost  looked  as  if  it  were  Sergei 
Arkadievitch,  and  not  the  aged  and  eccentric  General,  who 
had  shown  himself  possessed  of  true  business  insight. 

The  interest  on  these  loans,  however,  made  considerable 
inroads  upon  the  Prince's  resources,  and  the  obliging  bank 
in  Odessa  was  precise  in  the  matter  of  dates.  Up  to  the 
present  there  had  been  no  actual  embarrassment ;  and  it  could 
not  be  long  before  the  houses  were  ready  for  occupation,  and 
then  the  profits  would  begin  to  come  in.  Such  little  difficulties 
as  had  occurred  up  to  now  had  always  been  satisfactorily 
disposed  of  with  the  aid  of  the  Jews  in  Odessa.  Far  more  dis- 
agreeable to  the  Prince  was  the  feeling  that  General  Karatayef 
seemed  to  be  somehow  edging  his  way  deeper  and  deeper  into 
his  private  affairs.  Great  stretches  of  forest  about  Priluka 
had  been  mortgaged  as  security  for  the  loans,  some  mills  and 
a  couple  of  thousand  deshatins  of  farm-land  had  followed. 
On  the  last  occasion  when  it  had  become  necessary  to  raise 
ready  money,  the  Jewish  advocate  in  Odessa  had  suggested 
the  orchards  and  the  fishing  of  the  lake,  both  lying  under  the 
very  windows  of  Priluka,  as  easily  realizable  assets,  a  business- 
like proposition  which  had  sent  the  Prince  into  such  a  transport 
of  rage  that  the  agent  feared  for  his  skin.  There  was  no  time 
to  be  lost,  however ;  contractors  and  workmen  must  be  paid  if 
the  work  was  to  go  on.  Prince  Rilinski  deposited  some 
securities  belonging  to  his  wife — and  found  no  immediate 
opportunity  of  mentioning  the  matter  to  her.  And  behind 
all  these  complications  Prince  Sergei  saw  continually  the 
figure  of  the  little  withered  General,  playing  with  his  cross, 
stroking  his  bald  head,  and  picking  up  innumerable  pins 
and  threads.  The  old  man  had  a  way  of  asking,  every 
now  and  then,  in  his  shivering,  uncomfortable  manner, 
how  things  were  going  with  "  our  timber  "  or  "  our  harvest." 
And  the  Prince  felt  it  as  an  immeasurable  impertinence  which 
he  was  powerless  to  resent.  Sergei  Arkadievitch  had  grown 
to  fear  this  meagre,  miserable  man,  who  looked  at  him  with 

3 


34  KATYA 

horrid  vulture  eyes,  and  whose  power  lay  about  him  like  the 
shadow  of  threatening  wings. 

Never — never  should  a  daughter  of  his  marry  that  creature's 
son.  He  owned  too  much  already  of  Priluka  and  the  heritage 
of  the  Rilinskis.  The  very  thought  of  Karatayef's  talon 
fingers  touching  child  of  his  filled  Prince  Sergei  with  a  passion 
of  disgust.  That  hateful  Shylock  of  a  man  invested  with 
paternal  rights  over  Sonya — the  shy  and  delicate  creature  who 
was  all  the  world  to  him,  as  Katya  to  her  mother. .  .  .  Rather 
the  direst  of  disaster — anything — than  that  ! 

But  she  could  not  be  so  mad.  A  child  of  her  age  would 
never  throw  herself  away  on  the  first  who  offered  himself. 
And  why  suppose  that  this  young  Karatayef  cared  for  either 
of  them  ?  Or,  if  he  did,  it  would  not  last.  The  boy  was  only 
twenty-two,  and  had  scarcely  seen  a  petticoat  in  his  life. 
There  was  time  enough  for  him.  His  father,  too,  would  have 
something  to  say  in  the  matter,  and  he  knew  only  too  well 
what  was  likely  to  be  the  marriage  portion  of  a  Princess 
Rilinski  as  things  were. 

No,  Elena  Dolgoruki  would  be  as  good  a  match  as  young 
Karatayef  could  ever  hope  to  make.  The  approaching  visit 
of  the  two  girls  was  in  every  way  a  desirable  event.  One  of 
Anastasia  Gregorievna's  excellent  ideas  !  And  nothing  should 
be  spared  at  Priluka  to  insure  its  being  duly  carried  out. 
No  vulgar  extravagance,  but  a  quiet  and  tasteful  elegance, 
not  to  be  discerned  by  the  guests  as  any  departure  from  the 
daily  tone  and  manner  of  the  house.  No  ostentatious  display, 
but  just  so  much  of  old-time  ease  and  wealth  as  should  enable 
them  to  feel  themselves  at  home  and  indisputably  among  their 
equals. 

Prince  Sergei  kissed  his  wife's  hand  lightly  as  he  passed 
her  on  the  veranda.  "  My  dear,  you  are  an  angel !"  he  said, 
with  an  admiring  glance.  She  said  nothing,  but  nodded 
gratefully  in  answer. 

In  the  evening,  at  late  tea,  Sonya  related  all  that  she  and 
Tatiana  Feodorovna  had  been  doing  in  the  way  of  prepara- 
tions. Elena  and  Elisaveta  were  to  have  each  their  own  room 
near  her  own  and  Katya's,  with  a  small  boudoir  between, 
which  they  were  to  share.  Their  maids  would  be  within  easy 
call,  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  same  wing,  facing  the  court- 


NEW  GUESTS  ARRIVE  35 

yard.  Curtains  had  been  hung  up,  and  chairs  and  sofas 
covered  with  fine  old  tapestries;  vessels  of  silver,  crystal,  and 
enamel  had  been  placed  in  readiness  to  receive  the  flowers 
which  Katya  had  promised  to  furnish  next  morning  before 
the  guests  arrived. 

"  And  is  that  your  only  contribution  to  the  work  of  prepara- 
tion, mademoiselle  ?"  inquired  Prince  Sergei  playfully.  "  It 
seems  that  your  sister  is  to  play  the  part  of  Martha  !" 

"  Father,  how  can  you  say  such  things  !  After  Petya  and 
Niki  and  I  have  been  in  the  stables  all  day  !" 

"  I  don't  quite  see  the  connection.  .  .  ." 

"  We've  been  breaking  in  two  of  the  new  horses — with 
Mikailo  to  help,  of  course." 

"  Good  Heavens,  child — the  new  greys,  that  have  never  seen 
shaft  or  saddle  in  their  lives  !"  Prince  Sergei  stared  stupidly, 
aghast. 

"  My  dear  papa,  Elena  and  Elisaveta  must  have  something 
to  ride,  and  we  shall  have  to  go  with  them.  We  can't  give 
them  a  couple  of  unbroken  beasts ;  they'll  have  to  have  mine 
and  one  of  the  others,  and  then  I  and  Petya — or  Nikolai 
Nikolaievitch  if  he  can — must  take  the  new  ones." 

"  Katya,  I  forbid  this.    I  will  not  allow  .  .  ." 

"  Papa,  it's  as  easy  as  anything  !" 

"  Katya  manages  them  beautifully,  Uncle  Sergei,"  broke 
in  Petya.  And  Karatayef  added,  "  Splendidly  !"  with  such 
enthusiasm  that  both  Sonya  and  her  mother  turned  to  look  at 
him,  whereupon  he  flushed  hotly  and  spilt  his  tea. 

"  And  besides,  Mikailo  was  there — he  held  Murad  by  the  ear 
while  I  mounted.  You  ought  to  see  how  he  can  manage 
them  !  But  Murad  is  the  best." 

There  was  a  knock  at  the  door,  and  Mikailo  appeared,  hat 
in  hand,  and  ceremoniously  wished  the  family  good-evening. 

"  Have  some  tea,  Mikailo  ?"  said  Katya  hurriedly,  and 
Tatiana  Feodorovna  drew  up  a  chair. 

"  I  understand,  Mikailo,  that  you  have  allowed  Ekaterina 
Sergeievna  to  mount  the  new  grey,  Murad.  You  should  not 
have  permitted  it ;  and  I  do  not  wish  to  hear  of  any  repetition 
of  these — ah — tricks." 

Mikailo  wiped  his  mouth  on  his  red  shirt-sleeve,  blew  his 
tea,  and  swallowed  a  mouthful,  and  observed,  with  his  head 
on  one  side : 


36  KATYA 

"  Perfectly  right,  Your  Highness.  I  told  Ekaterina  Ser- 
geievna  so  myself.  Not  so  nicely,  of  course — but  something 
like  it.  Didn't  I,  my  lamb  ?" 

"  Yes,  indeed,  you  did,"  said  Petya.  Katya  merely  nodded 
encouragingly  to  Mikailo. 

"  But  you  see,  Your  Highness,  in  the  first  place,  there's  no 
denying  that  we  shall  need  more  horses  when  the  new  young 
ladies  come,  so  it  was  not  such  a  mad  .  .  ."  he  hesitated, 
seeking  a  more  polite  expression  ..."  wasn't  exactly  school- 
girl nonsense  the  way  it  was  put.  And  then — er — well,  Your 
Highness  .  .  ."  He  took  another  sip  of  his  tea. 

"  Go  on,  Mikailo,"  said  the  Prince  impatiently. 

"  H'm,  I  don't  know  if  Your  Highness  or  Her  Highness 
the  Princess  can — and  that  I  humbly  doubt,  with  all  respect 
.  .  .  but — well,  I  can't,  Your  Highness.  And  Peotr  Konstan- 
tinovitch  can't  either — and  Nikolai  Nikolaievitch  can't 
either — and  ..." 

"  Can't  what,  Mikailo  ?" 

"  Make  the  little  lamb  do  anything  but  just  what  pleases 
her." 

Mikailo,  having  said  his  say,  returned  to  his  tea. 

"  You  will  kindly  remember  that  these  experiments  are  not 
to  be  repeated."  The  Prince  spoke  sharply ;  the  young  people 
seemed  unduly  amused. 

"  Very  well,  Your  Highness,  I'll  not  forget  it;  but  Ekate- 
rina Sergeievna  doesn't  always  remember  little  things  like 
that." 

All  laughed  aloud  at  this. 

"  What  did  you  want  to  ask  me  about,  Mikailo  ?"  said  the 
Prince.  It  was  high  time  to  change  the  subject. 

"  Well,  about  the  young  ladies  to-morrow;  they'll  have  to 
be  fetched  from  Dubni." 

"  Quite  right.  Let  me  see.  You'd  better  send  a  special 
waggon  for  the  luggage;  there  will  doubtless  be  a  good  deal. 
Ivan  can  take  Dimitri  with  the  little  phaeton  for  the  two 
maids,  and  you  can  fetch  the  young  ladies  yourself — in  the 
caleche.  Take  the  two  blacks  ..." 

"  But,  papa,"  broke  in  Katya,  "  aren't  any  of  us  to  go  to 
meet  them  at  the  station  ?" 

"  I  presume  you  or  Sonya — one  will  be  enough — will  go 
with  Sasha  to  fetch  your  guests." 


"  ROW,  PETYA,  ROW  1"  37 

"  Not  me,  thank  you,  if  we're  to  be  four  in  that  thing  !" 
Katya  tossed  her  head.  "  111  tell  you  what,  papa,  if  you 
wanted  to  be  really  nice  ..." 

"  There  you  are !"  burst  out  Mikailo  involuntarily.  A 
ripple  of  laughter  went  round  the  room ;  even  the  Prince  was 
unable  to  keep  his  countenance. 

"  Papa,  let  us  fetch  them  in  the  old  state  coach — and  troika. 
Mikailo  does  it  splendidly.  And  I  told  Elena  once,  and  she 
wouldn't  believe  we  had  harness  and  everything,  a  hundred 
years  old  and  good  as  new  ..." 

Prince  Sergei  thought  for  a  moment.  "  Very  well,  then, 
you  can  take  the  troika." 

Katya  gave  her  father  a  kiss.  Mikailo  wiped  his  mouth 
once  more  on  his  sleeve,  and  rising,  bowed  and  made  his  exit, 
with  the  following  apparently  incoherent  remark : 

"  I  thank  Your  Highnesses  for  the  beautiful  tea;  I  knew  it 
all  along." 


CHAPTER  IV 

"  ROW,   PETYA,    ROW  !" 

ELENA  DOLGORUKI  and  Elisaveta  Miliukin  had  been  a  week 
at  Priluka.  The  days  had  flown.  The  young  people  filled 
the  place  with  merriment,  and  the  Prince  and  Princess  were 
delighted. 

Petya  Orloff,  however,  had  grown  melancholy  of  late;  the 
time  was  drawing  near  when  he  should  go  back  to  Odessa  and 
rejoin  the  training-ship,  and  the  others  had  a  whole  month 
yet — as  long,  indeed,  as  they  cared  to  stay.  He  alone  was 
forced  to  leave  this  paradise  of  Priluka,  which  had  become 
almost  like  a  home  to  him. 

"  Petya,  I  declare  it  suits  you  to  look  sad  !"  said  Katya 
to  him  the  last  evening,  when  they  were  out  rowing  together. 
It  had  not  been  easy  for  him  to  get  her  to  himself;  her  natural 
restlessness  had  further  increased  since  the  arrival  of  her  two 
girl  friends.  Somehow  or  other  it  was  always  Katya  who 
determined  what  was  to  be  done  each  day,  and  gave  orders 
for  riding,  bathing,  picking  mushrooms,  shopping  at  Dubni, 
open-air  games,  reading  aloud,  or  whatever  chanced  to  occur 
to  her  mind ;  but  she  was  also  the  first  to  forsake  any  one  of 


38  KATYA 

the  pastimes  she  herself  had  chosen  as  soon  as  a  new  idea 
came  into  her  head.  Katya's  newest  idea  was  always,  at  the 
moment  of  its  conception,  immeasurably  beyond  all  other 
ideas  that  ever  were.  Time  after  time  she  drove  Shipagin 
to  despair,  when,  having  dressed  himself  carefully  for  what- 
ever undertaking  had  been  agreed  upon,  he  made  his  appear- 
ance only  to  find  that  something  quite  different  had  been 
decided  in  the  meantime,  for  which  his  then  attire  did  not 
suit  at  all.  She  was  the  tyrant  of  them  all — not  with  the 
least  desire  to  tease  or  hurt,  but  rather  as  a  dramatic  author, 
superintending  the  rehearsal  of  his  own  play,  insists  on  the 
actors  and  actresses'  playing  the  parts  assigned  to  them  in 
accordance  with  his  own  idea,  claiming  the  same  authority 
as  he  has  over  the  characters  whose  fate  he  has  determined. 
Katya's  head  was  always  full  of  plans.  She  was  ceaselessly 
occupied,  and,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  she  ought  not  to  be  sitting 
here  out  on  the  lake  alone  with  Petya.  .  .  . 

"  Katya,  would  you  write  to  me  now  and  then?"  said  Orloff  ; 
his  voice  was  low,  with  a  little  despondent  note. 

"  I  really  don't  know  if  I  shall  have  time." 

"  You  might  do  a  little  thing  like  that  to  please  me,  Katya." 

"  And  why  should  I  write  to  you  in  particular  ?"  Some- 
thing in  Petya's  tone  interested  her,  compelled  her  attention — 
at  any  rate,  for  the  moment. 

"  Because — because  it  would  mean  very  much  to  me." 

"  Petya  !" 

He  looked  up  at  her,  half-fearing  to  read  in  her  face  some- 
thing which  should  destroy  in  a  moment  all  the  hopes  he  had 
been  building  in  his  secret  heart. 

"  Petya,  isn't  it  lovely  here  at  Priluka  ?" 

"  Yes."     The  word  melted  into  a  sigh. 

It  was  a  warm  evening  in  late  July,  about  the  time  when 
twilight  spreads  itself  abroad  like  a  low  breath  over  earth 
and  sky,  ushering  gently  away  the  heat  of  day,  and  giving 
place  itself  to  the  deep,  star-sown  night.  The  water  rippled 
softly  against  the  sides  of  the  boat;  somewhere  among  the 
reeds  a  duck  was  calling  to  her  young.  The  great  trees  of 
the  park,  that  leant  their  heavy  tops  out  over  the  water,  grew 
more  and  more  indistinct;  and  up  beyond  the  lawn  that 
sloped  gently  down  towards  the  lake,  between  the  sentinel- 
like  groups  of  oak  and  birch  and  pine,  stood  the  white  palace, 


"  ROW,  PETYA,  ROW  1"  39 

like  some  distant  vision  of  a  dream.  The  lamps  were  being 
lit,  and  the  gleam  from  the  windows  was  flung  out  across  the 
water  in  a  trembling  golden  ray,  as  from  some  star  more 
near  and  bright  than  all  the  heavens  held.  There,  where  the 
stream  flowed  out  through  broad,  soft  meadows,  white  wreaths 
of  mist  gathered  and  clung  to  the  tiny  waves,  leaving  a  per- 
fume of  thyme  and  new-mown  hay.  Far  away  on  the  other 
side  of  the  park  Mikailo  was  singing  a  little  sorrowful  song 
of  the  Cossack  hero  whose  love  deserted  him. 

"  Nights  of  Ukraine  ..."  whispered  Katya. 

Petya  Orloffs  eyes  were  fixed  upon  her  as  she  sat  there  in 
her  thin  white  dress,  her  head  resting  on  her  hands,  and  her 
deep  eyes  gazing  far  into  the  beauty  of  the  night.  She  looked 
as  one  who  prays — and  the  boy  felt  a  strange  desire  himself 
to  kneel  and  worship. 

"  Petya,  why  do  you  want  me  to  write  ?  Tell  me,  Petya — 
whisper." 

"  Because — because  there's  nobody  that  cares  .  .  .  and  I 
care  so  much  for  you,  Katya.  I  think  if  I  only  knew  that  you 
— thought  of  me  sometimes,  I  wouldn't  mind  so  much  about 
— father — and  all  the  rest.  Not  be  so  lonely — Katya,  you 
don't  know  what  it  means  to  be  lonely.  .  .  ." 

"  Yes  I  do,  Petya — I  know.  Those  horrible  years  in 
Kief " 

"  Not  like  me,  Katya.  You  had  Sonya,  and  you  could  always 
come  home.  But  I've  only  got  myself — and  it's  not  easy  to 
get  on  with  all  the  others — teachers  and  the  fellows  on 
board.  .  .  .  And  you  were  only  homesick  for  your  own  home, 
and  you  knew  it  was  there  waiting  for  you  all  the  time.  But 
I  haven't  any  home — and  sometimes  I  don't  know  what  it  is 
I'm  lonely  and  miserable  about.  ..." 

He  paused.  Somehow  he  seemed  to  be  saying  things  he 
hadn't  in  the  least  meant  to  say. 

"  Go  on,  Petya.     If  I  do  write  to  you  .  .  ." 

"  Katya,  if  you  only  would  !  But  not  only  about  tricks 
you  do  and  things  ...  if  you  wrote— about  you  and  me — I 
believe  you  could,  if  you  cared  about  it.  Then  I  would  work 
ever  so  hard,  at  books  and  everything,  and  pass  decently,  and 
be  an  officer  and  all  that,  and  then  perhaps  Uncle  Sergei  and 
Aunt  Anastasia  would  give  us  a  hand,  and  .  .  ." 
"  Do  you  really  care  as  much  as  all  that,  Petya  ?" 


40  KATYA 

Katya  had  drawn  the  end  of  her  thick  brown  plait  over  her 
shoulder  and  was  playing  thoughtfully  with  the  curling  tassel 
of  hair. 

"  Katya,  you're  the  only  creature  in  the  world  I  really 
care  for.  Sasha  can  keep  Elisaveta  Miliukin  if  he  likes,  and 
Shipagin  can  run  after  Elena — I  don't  care  a  straw  for  either 
of  them.  If  only  you  cared  a  little  you  could  help  me  ever 
so  much — if  you  only  would." 

He  moved  aft  and  sat  down  on  the  thwart  beside  her ;  she 
made  no  protest.  The  boat  was  drifting  idly,  without  sound 
over  the  silent  lake. 

"  Promise  you  won't  tell,  Katya  " — his  voice  sank  to  a 
whisper — "  I've — I've  cried  sometimes  at  night,  at  school, 
you  know,  and  on  board  too,  because  it  hurt  so  to  think  there 
wasn't  a  single  soul  that  cared.  All  the  others  have  got 
fathers  and  mothers  and  sisters  and  sweethearts  and  every- 
thing; but  I've  got  nobody,  only  Olga,  and  she's  ever  so  far 
away  in  Turkestan." 

Katya  laid  her  hand  over  one  of  his. 

"  I  don't  know  if  you  can  understand,  Katya,  but  sometimes 
I  think  it  wouldn't  be  so  bad  not  having  anyone  to  care  for 
one,  if  only  there  was  somebody  one  really  cared  for  oneself — 
just  one  creature  to  be  really,  really  fond  of,  you  know,  and 
look  after,  be  kind  to,  and  do  things  for.  Oh,  I  can't  explain 
things  I  mean — I  never  can  .  .  ." 

"  Sh  !     Petya,  go  on,  I  want  to  hear." 

"  And  it's  you  I've  wanted,  Katya — you — like  you  were  as 
a  little  girl,  when  I  fought  the  others  for  you,  and  we  were 
to  run  away  to  Turkey ;  and  you  as  you  are  now,  this  evening, 
so  quiet  and  gentle;  and  you  when  you  ride  Murad — its  always 
you,  Katya.  I  never  think  of  anyone  else.  It's  ever  so  much 
worse  for  me  than  for  Niki  with  Sonya  .  .  ." 

Katya  drew  her  hand  away.  After  a  moment,  however, 
she  gave  it  him  again,  as  if  she  had  changed  her  mind. 

"  Petya,  do  you  mean  to  say  that  Sonya  and  .  .  ." 

"  Niki's  over  head  and  ears  in  love  with  her.  He  never  looks 
at  any  of  the  others.  But  he's  got  his  father.  He'll  be  rich 
one  day,  and  then,  he's  clever  .  .  ." 

She  kissed  his  forehead.    It  was  done  before  she  thought. 

"  Petya,  we  must  go  in,  its  ever  so  late.  Row — row  as 
hard  as  you  can,  and  let  me  steer  !" 


"  ROW,  PETYA,  ROW  !"  41 

The  boat  shot  through  the  water,  sending  an  arch  of  spray 
up  on  either  side.  Petya  found  it  all  too  easy.  He  wished 
she  had  demanded  unthinkable  impossibilities;  for  she  had 
given  him  that  kiss — given  it,  that  he  had  never  dared  to 
ask  or  take  himself  .  .  .  nothing  was  impossible  any  more. 

As  they  reached  the  landing-stage  she  sprang  ashore. 

"Lock  up  the  boat,  Petya;  papa's  always  angry  when  it 
isn't  locked." 

Petya,  standing  up  in  the  boat,  saw  the  light,  lithe  figure 
move  away  toward  the  dark  of  the  trees ;  then  her  voice  came 
to  him,  speaking  softly,  as  she  had  spoken  out  there  on  the 
water  : 

"  And  I  will  write,  Petya — of  you  and  me  !" 

The  figure  vanished  into  the  dark — nights  of  Ukraine  ! 
.  .  .  Petya  Orloff  trod  the  gravel  as  one  going  forth  to  win 
new  worlds. 

Tatiana  Feodorovna  marked  with  intense  disapproval  the 
fact  that  the  number  of  courses  at  lunch  and  dinner  had  been 
increased,  that  both  meals  had  been  set  an  hour  later  than 
the  usual  time,  and  that  at  least  two  sorts  of  wine  were 
served  at  each.  Moreover,  she  had  been  ordered  to  open 
certain  jars  of  special  preserve,  which  in  her  opinion  should 
have  remained  untouched,  and  she  noticed  with  displeasure 
that  the  strange  young  ladies'  rooms  had  been  decorated  with 
costly  stuffs  which  only  saw  the  light  on  special  occasions 
once  or  twice  a  year;  but  the  head  and  front  of  all  offending 
was  the  presence  of  the  two  young  ladies'  maids.  These  she 
maintained  were  "  foreigners,"  and  always  spoke  of  them  as 
such,  in  spite  of  the  fact  that  they  were  born  in  Russia  and 
spoke  nothing  but  Russian.  Tatiana  alleged  as  proof  the  fact 
that  they  came  from  a  place  which  no  one  had  ever  heard  of 
— being  Estland — and  that  it  was  impossible  to  understand 
a  word  they  said.  This  last  was  due  to  the  circumstance 
that  the  two  maids  spoke  pure  Russian,  and  not  the  dialect 
of  the  country  round  Prihika.  Elena  Dolgoruki  and  Elisa- 
veta  Miliukin  were  very  charming  young  ladies  ;  she  had  not 
a  word  to  say  against  them,  and  if  it  pleased  the  Prince  and 
Princess  to  turn  the  house  upside  down  and  introduce  all 
manner  of  heathen  customs,  well  and  good ;  it  was  their  own 
affair,  and  no  business  of  hers.  But  she  was  not  going  to 


42  KATYA 

take  orders  from  these  impertinent  young  foreigners  who, 
beyond  doubt,  were  a  couple  of  unchristian  creatures,  and 
who  had  already  begun  to  set  their  caps  at  Dimitri,  good-for- 
nothing  that  he  was,  and  Mikailo,  who  had  a  wife  of  his  own 
already,  and  any  amount  of  children.  They  were  not  an 
atom  of  use,  these  foreigners,  as  far  as  she  could  see,  except 
to  eat  hard-working  folk  out  of  house  and  home.  Tea,  cakes, 
and  sweetmeats  disappeared  before  them  in  a  manner  which 
brought  to  mind  her  late  husband's  summary  way  of  dealing 
with  bottles  of  vodka;  and  always  running  in  and  out,  now 
heating  irons,  now  borrowing  needles  and  thread,  or  washing 
ribbons  and  laces  in  some  evil-smelling  stuff  that  was  enough 
to  send  an  honest  woman  into  a  fainting-fit. 

Tatiana  Feodorovna  laid  these  new  evidences  of  malign 
persecution  on  the  part  of  fate  before  Stefan  the  cook,  ex- 
patiating at  length  upon  the  additional  injustice  of  the  fact 
that  the  said  fate  had  delegated  foreigners  to  serve  its  evil 
purpose;  but  Stefan  shrugged  his  shoulders  resignedly,  as 
one  whom  nothing  can  astonish.  He,  too,  had  marked  an 
evil  influence  at  work ;  his  duties  were  become  more  arduous, 
more  complicated,  and  the  various  innovations  in  the  matter 
of  meals  troubled  him  exceedingly.  But  nothing  in  the  world 
ever  happened  without  due  and  sufficient  cause,  and  Stefan 
called  to  mind  the  fact  that  Petrushka  still  lived  on  and  had 
his  being  at  Priluka,  growing,  moreover,  greener  every  day. 

One  evening — this  was  after  Petya  Orloff  had  left — Tatiana 
Feodorovna  unburdened  herself  to  her  favourite  Sasha  con- 
cerning the  latest  indignities  which  she  had  suffered  at  the 
hands  of  the  foreigners — a  long  story  about  some  flat-irons 
which  had  disappeared.  Sasha  was,  as  a  rule,  her  most 
patient  hearer;  on  this  occasion,  however,  he  was  less  sym- 
pathetic than  usual.  He  listened  inattentively  to  her  careful 
and  detailed  account  of  the  remarkable  happenings,  and  before 
she  had  time  to  finish,  interrupted  her  with  a  remark  which 
she  would  remember  to  her  dying  day : 

"  My  dear  Tanya,  don't  be  so  unreasonable !" 

Alexander  Sergeievitch  sided  with  the  foreigners  !  There 
was  no  longer  justice  to  be  found  on  earth  ! 

Tanya  was  right;  Priluka  had  changed.  Sasha  felt  a  new 
air  about  him,  in  him,  lifting  and  lightening  all  his  being. 


"  ROW,  PETYA,  ROW  I"  43 

He  ceased  to  read  his  holidays  away;  already  he  had  begun  to 
think  with  deep  aversion  of  the  approaching  return  to  Moscow 
— studies  and  examinations.  He  had  spoken  to  Karatayef  as 
to  the  possibility  of  postponing  their  departure,  and — mirdbile 
dictu.t — Niki,  the  paragon  of  virtue,  Niki  the  conscience- 
ridden,  had  declared  that  they  might  just  as  well  stay  on  at 
Priluka.  No  term  had  been  mentioned;  Niki's  manner  had 
given  Sasha  the  impression  that  he  meant  to  adjourn  the 
very  question  even  to  a  future  far  beyond  all  present  horizons. 
It  was  long  since  Sasha  had  felt  so  well;  he  forgot  to  feel 
tired,  forgot  almost  the  little  troublesome  cough  which  was 
often  so  difficult  to  conceal  from  the  notice  of  those  about 
him.  And  everybody  was  so  kind — seemed  to  anticipate 
his  wishes  and  guess  his  thoughts,  and  yet  without  a  tinge  of 
irritating  officiousness.  Katya,  for  instance ;  how  wonder- 
fully she  managed  to  plan  just  such  little  expeditions  as  he 
most  loved,  and  arrange  them,  moreover,  in  the  most  natural 
manner  in  the  world,  so  that  he  found  himself  seated  beside 
Elisaveta  Vasilievna,  riding  with  her  behind  the  others  or  lost 
by  the  rest  of  the  party  and  only  found  again  when  it  was 
time  to  start  for  home !  She  had  a  way,  too,  of  letting  fall 
a  remark,  a  careless  observation,  which  turned  the  conversa- 
tion on  to  the  subject  of  the  ancient  glories  of  the  Rilinskis, 
which  saga  he  knew  by  heart,  or  the  history  of  the  place, 
which  he  likewise  had  at  his  finger-ends.  Sometimes  she 
would  even  make  a  direct  proposal,  asking  him  to  read  aloud 
to  Elisaveta  from  Gogol's  "  Stories  of  Ukraine  "  or  Pusch- 
kin's  poems;  she  knew  how  well  he  read.  Then  she  would 
carry  off  the  rest  to  help  her  with  something  which  must  be 
done.  ...  As  a  matter  of  fact,  it  frequently  taxed  severely 
even  Katya's  powers  of  impromptu  invention  to  find  some- 
thing with  which  the  others  could  and  must  help  her.  Sasha 
was  under  her  very  effective  protection,  and  he  did  not  know 
how  to  thank  her.  When  he  mentioned  the  subject,  she 
merely  answered  in  a  motherly  tone:  "  She's  quite  charming, 
Sasha;  your  choice  does  you  credit." 

Elisaveta  Miliukin  was  nearly  twenty,  full  two  years 
younger  than  Sasha,  and  almost  as  much  older  than  Katya. 
"  And  Katya,  little  devil,  does  what  she  likes  with  us  both," 
thought  Sasha  to  himself,  without  a  trace  of  bitterness, 
however;  on  the  contrary,  he  was  filled  with  admiration  and 


44  KATYA 

gratitude.  He  had  grown  very  fond  of  Elisaveta  Vasilievna 
in  the  bright  sunny  days  at  Priluka;  she  had  developed  wonder- 
fully since  the  old  days  at  Kief.  Her  stay  in  Paris,  where 
her  parents  lived,  had  done  her  good;  all  trace  of  the  school- 
girl had  disappeared  ;  she  was  a  woman  of  the  world  in  manner, 
form,  and  feature.  Elisaveta  Miliukin  was  of  pure  Russian 
stock,  but  she  had  already,  young  as  she  was,  acquired  that 
ease  of  manner,  a  conscious  and  yet  natural  grace,  which  is 
only  learned  in  the  highest  circles  of  cosmopolitan  society. 
Elena  Dolgoruki,  on  the  other  hand,  despite  the  sums  which 
had  been  spent  upon  her  education,  had  benefited  little  by 
the  constant  attendance  of  French  nurses  and  English  gover- 
nesses. She  had  been  to  the  first  convent  school  in  Kief, 
had  studied  singing  in  Paris,  music  in  Leipzig,  and  learnt 
riding  in  London,  and,  in  spite  of  it  all,  she  remained  what 
she  was — a  girl  of  the  people,  red  and  white,  round  and 
naturally  sweet,  but  quite  unable  to  wear  the  creations  which 
her  mother  ordered  from  the  St.  Petersburg  branches  of 
French  modistes,  and  which  her  maid  hung  about  her  as 
one  hangs  dresses  on  a  doll.  Elisaveta  Vasilievna  had  one 
thing  in  common  with  Katya — the  hall-mark  of  race  was 
always  evident  in  her  appearance,  however  simply  she  might 
be  dressed.  But  Katya's  charm  lay  in  a  certain  restless, 
mobile  grace,  now  playful  as  a  squirrel's,  now  lithe  and  eager 
as  a  greyhound's;  Elisaveta's  manner  was  quiet  and  re- 
strained, possessing  every  womanly  charm,  but  always  under 
most  perfect  control.  And  Sasha  was  completely  fascinated. 

Her  home  surroundings  had  played  an  important  part  in 
her  education.  Accustomed  as  she  was  to  hear  clever  men 
talk  of  weighty  matters,  she  had  become  practised  in  the  art 
of  speaking  or  being  silent  as  the  occasion  demanded;  and 
while  she  did  not  possess  either  Katya's  instinctive  intelli- 
gence or  Elena  Dolgoruki's  goodness  of  heart,  she  had  yet  a 
power  foreign  to  both — she  could  listen.  She  was  one  of  those 
women  in  whom  men  confide,  and  whom  they  consider  clever, 
because  they  are  always  ready  to  act  the  part  of  sympathetic 
audience.  Sasha  had  quickly  become  convinced  that  she 
was  both  intelligent  and  accomplished,  and  his  father  held 
the  same  opinion.  Altogether,  Elisaveta  Miliukin  was  con- 
sidered a  great  acquisition  at  Priluka. 

She  herself  was  thoroughly  enjoying  her  stay.     The  sur- 


"  ROW   PETYA,  ROW  !"  45 

roundings  were  kindly,  pleasant,  and  amusing.  There  was 
no  other  house  within  the  circle  of  her  acquaintance  where 
she  had  found  or  was  likely  to  find  such  an  opportunity  for 
youthful,  free-and-easy  holiday  life.  She  felt  herself  deli- 
cately flattered  by  the  admiration  which  she  read  in  Sasha's 
eyes,  as  well  as  by  the  deference  to  her  wishes  and  opinions 
which  the  boy,  ably  seconded  by  Katya,  contrived  to  exact 
on  all  sides.  She  was  beginning,  indeed,  to  grow  more  inter- 
ested than  she  would  have  cared  to  admit,  even  to  herself. 
The  stiff  and  strictly  religious  atmosphere  at  Count  Dolgoruki's 
had  made  the  place  unendurably  dull  for  her,  and  the  invita- 
tion for  Elena  and  herself  had  come  as  a  welcome  relief.  Yet 
she  had  scarcely  expected  to  find  Priluka  as  it  now  appeared — 
there  was  about  the  place  more  of  breeding  and  tradition,  and 
at  the  same  time  more  freedom,  than  she  had  imagined.  And 
Sasha  .  .  .  she  had  never  dreamed  that  Sasha  ...  he,  too, 
was  so  different. 

Elena  also  found  him  changed — he  was  a  different  person 
altogether.  "  Katya  dear,  I  was  wrong;  your  brother's  not 
a  bit  dull,  after  all.  He  used  to  be,  but  not  now.  And 
Vladimir  Alexandrovitch — isn't  he  charming  1" 

"  You  dear  little  stupid  1"  said  Katya,  with  such  girl- 
friendly,  underlined  enthusiasm  that  Elena  felt  quite  touched. 
Really  Priluka  was  the  sweetest  place;  everybody  was  so 
marvellously  kind,  and  everything  so  delightfully  different 
from  her  own  home.  .  . . 

Elena  had  not  hitherto  received  much  of  that  mysterious 
homage  sometimes  called  "  attentions."  And  Vladimir 
Shipagin  certainly  paid  his  most  assiduously. 

After  a  long  and  painful  inward  struggle,  Niki  Karatayef 
had  at  last  come  to  a  decision.  Sonya,  Sonya  and  none  other, 
should  reign  henceforward  in  his  heart.  The  pangs  of  doubt 
had  become  unendurable ;  the  trouble  in  his  soul  shadowed  the 
very  summer  for  himself,  and  he  felt  also  that  the  penumbra 
of  his  melancholy  darkened  in  some  degree  the  brightness 
of  the  days  for  those  about  him,  who  could  not  fathom  the 
meaning  of  his  moody  silence.  His  honourable  nature  suffered 
continually  under  the  offendings  of  his  indecision ;  there  was 
no  day  but  saw  some  breach  of  an  unspoken  bond  to  one  of 
the  twain  he  worshipped.  And  if  ever  either  of  them  appealed 


46  KATYA 

to  him  to  settle  a  dispute,  he  stood  timorously  hesitant,  a 
picture  of  helpless  unmanliness.  But  now  he  would  make  an 
end  of  it  once  and  for  all.  He  had  decided. 

And  it  was  to  be  Sonya.  She  was  nearer,  less  hopelessly 
inaccessible.  Katya  could  never  care  for  such  a  man  as  he, 
who  had  proved  himself  unable  to  follow  in  subservient 
admiration  wherever  she  led.  For  this  was  what  she  asked — 
not  openly,  indeed,  but  none  the  less  distinctly.  And  if 
she  thought  that  he  in  his  inmost  soul  trembled  to  think  to 
what  extremes  her  power  might  lead  him ;  dreaded  the  depths 
which  he  imagined  hidden  beneath  her  sparkling,  lightly 
shifting  moods ;  if  she  suspected  that  he  feared  her,  as  indeed 
he  did — then  she  would  flick  him  carelessly  out  of  her  con- 
sciousness, as  a  speck  from  her  sleeve. 

No;  it  must  be  Sonya..  He  longed  for  rest  and  peace  of 
mind.  There  needed  no  words  to  tell  him  that  if  ever  Katya 
should  be  won  and  held,  he  who  should  win  and  hold  her  would 
have  to  make  his  every  mood  and  feeling  vassal  to  her  own, 
following,  beat  for  beat  and  grade  for  grade,  the  swift,  inscrut- 
able movings  of  her  humour,  that  changed  more  swiftly  than 
a  storm-rent  sky.  She  was  not  for  him.  He  felt  himself  too 
heavy  and  too  slow  for  the  rapid  feint  and  fence  of  such  keen 
play. 

Sonya !  .  .  .  Slowly  he  would  win  her — the  shy,  quiet,  gentle 
child;  slowly  they  should  ripen  in  each  others'  sun  towards 
the  mellow  happiness  of  a  life  together.  No  more  cheap 
dreams  of  fierce  adventure  on  the  path  of  honour,  wealth,  and 
men's  renown,  with  Katya  to  crown  the  victor,  Katya  to  wear 
the  spoils.  No  more  wild  plans  of  vainly  perilous  deeds, 
dared  but  to  win  a  spark  of  acclamation  from  her  eyes.  And 
no  more  bitterness  of  heart  at  seeing  her  favour  flung  to  others 
freer,  bolder  than  his  weakling  self.  Thank  Heaven  ...  no 
more  of  that ! 

Sonya  1  ...  The  very  thought  was  as  a  sanctuary  of  peace. 
She  was  not  yet  sixteen ;  too  young  as  yet  to  leave  the  soft- 
lined  nest  built  so  protectingly  about  her.  And  when  the 
time  came  for  him  to  lead  her  away,  he  would  know  that  she 
was  his,  and  his  alone.  She  would  be  gentle,  as  her  mother  had 
been  in  the  dark  days  of  his  bereavement,  when  she  had 
wrapped  him  round  with  comfort  of  warm  kindliness.  With 
her  he  would  forget,  and  hope.  Her  soft  smile  and  the  long 


"  ROW,  PETYA,  ROW  !"  47 

look  of  her  big,  soft  eyes  would  calm  the  tempest-shocks  that 
rent  his  soul  at  the  thought  of  Katya  in  the  arms  of  some 
strong  champion  such  as  he  could  never  be. 
Sonya ! .  .  . 

A  week  after  Petya  Orloff '  s  departure,  two  letters  arrived — 
one  to  the  Prince  and  Princess,  and  one  to  Sasha.  He  wrote 
to  thank  them  for  the  delightful  time  in  which  he  had  once 
more  enjoyed  a  holiday  at  Priluka;  next  time  he  came,  he 
hoped  that  it  might  be  as  an  officer  in  the  navy.  "  I  will  do 
my  utmost,"  he  wrote,  "to  be  worthy  of  my  father's  name, 
and  of  the  kindness  you  have  always  shown  me."  And  he 
remained,  "with  affectionate  respect,  P.  K.  Orloff,  cadet." 

"  A  splendid  fellow — true  son  of  my  old  friend,"  said  the 
Prince. 

"  A  good  boy,  with  a  big,  soft  heart,"  murmured  the 
Princes^. 

"  But  horribly  wild,"  added  Elena. 

"  Not  the  sort  of  man  I  care  about,"  was  Shipagin's 
comment. 

Sasha  glanced  hurriedly  through  his  letter,  and  put  it  in 
his  pocket. 

"  And  what  does  Petya  say  to  you  ?"  asked  Prince  Sergei. 

"  Oh,  only  a  few  lines  about  some  things  he  had  left  behind." 

Katya  had  kept  her  eyes  fixed  on  Sasha  as  he  read.  It  was 
most  annoying  that  the  post  now  came  just  at  luncheon-time, 
instead  of  half  an  hour  or  so  after. 

"  I  know  !"  she  broke  out  suddenly.  "  We'll  go  down  to 
the  hay  fields  and  help  make  hay." 

This  plan  was  still  under  discussion  when  the  Prince,  at  a 
sign  from  his  wife,  rose  to  intimate  that  the  meal  was  over. 

"  Give  me  that  letter,  quick  !"  whispered  Katya  hurriedly 
to  her  brother.  The  two  had  remained  behind  in  the  doorway 
as  the  others  went  out  to  have  coffee  on  the  veranda. 

"  How  do  you  know  there's  a  letter  for  you  ?" 

"  Don't  be  silly  !     Give  it  me,  at  once  !" 

Sasha  handed  over  the  letter,  feeling  himself,  however,  in 
duty  bound  to  shake  a  warning  finger  at  his  sister. 

But  Katya  was  out  of  sight. 

Hurrying  along  the  corridor  to  her  own  wing  of  the  house, 
she  ran  into  one  of  the  "  foreigners,"  almost  knocking  her 


48  KATYA 

over.    A  moment  later  she  had  locked  herself  in  her  room, 
and  pulled  down  the  blind. 

"  MY  DARLING  KATYA  !— 

"  We  have  been  back  on  board  a  week  now,  and  I  am 
beginning  to  get  used  to  the  change,  after  the  lovely  time  at 
Priluka.  It  is  pretty  hard  work  on  board;  we  are  doing 
gunnery,  and  there  is  a  lot  of  stiff  mathematics  and  nasty 
construction  work;  it  is  an  awful  grind.  But  I  am  working 
all  I  can,  and  you  shall  see  I  will  keep  my  promise  to  you, 
and  I  know  you  will  keep  yours,  and  write  of  you  and  me. 
I  think  of  you  every  day,  and  I  have  sworn  that  you  shall 
never  regret  it.  Can  you  remember,  you  told  me  to  '  row 
hard  and  let  you  steer  ?'  I  think  that  is  best  for  both  of  us, 
for  you  are  the  cleverest;  but  you  must  have  someone  with 
strong  arms  to  work  for  you  and  protect  you,  and  there  is 
nothing  I  would  love  better  in  all  the  world,  Katya,  my 
darling.  You  don't  know  how  happy  I  am.  Now  that  I  have 
you,  I  know  I  shall  get  on,  and  you  shall  never  be  sorry  for 
having  trusted 

"  Your  faithful  friend  till  death, 

"  PETYA." 

Katya  could  not  help  smiling.  Poor  dear  boy  1  It  didn't 
take  much  to  make  him  happy.  She  would  write  as  he  wished . 
Poor  fellow!  he  needed  a  little  kindness,  alone  and  friendless  as 
he  was. 

Yes,  she  remembered  telling  him  to  row.  But  not  like  that ! 
That  she  had  never  meant.  Oh,  stupid,  stupid  men,  that 
never  could  understand  !  Always  to  tell  them  in  clumsy, 
serious  words,  like  books — like  papa  talked.  And  Niki 
Karatayef — oh,  how  dare  he  !  And  Petya,  quiet,  stupid 
Petya — he  had  seen  it,  and  she  never,  though  it  was  clear  as 
day ! 

Perhaps  she  had  been  too  busy  looking  after  Elisaveta  and 
Sasha.  But  it  was  no  use  leaving  them  to  look  after  them- 
selves; that  was  impossible.  Elena,  too,  was  constantly  in 
need  of  a  helping  hand  with  Shipagin.  Moreover,  she  herself 
was  anxious  to  see  the  two  of  them  safely  in  harbour,  lest 
they  should  disturb  her  own  delicate  navigation.  When  all 
was  said  and  done,  girl-friends  were  more  trouble  than  they 
were  worth.  .  .  .  But  Niki  !  Had  he  net  been  wildly  jealous 


"  ROW,  PETYA,  ROW  !"  49 

of  Petya  every  hour  of  every  day  he  had  been  at  Priluka — 
thought  of  nothing  but  showing  off  before  her  1  Sasha  was 
her  brother — he  didn't  count — and  Shipagin  was  less  of  a  man 
to  her  than  Mikailo  the  coachman.  But  Niki  Karatayef  was 
her  vassal,  her  page,  as  Petya  was.  And  he  now  dared,  after 
letting  her  read  in  his  eyes  as  in  an  open  book,  he  dared  to  set 
her  aside — for  Sonya  ! 

For  Sonya  I  a  child,  younger  than  herself  by  more,  far  more 
than  the  mere  year  between  them.  Katya  had  always  been  the 
one  to  decide  and  arrange;  not  only  here  at  Priluka,  but  also  at 
Kief  and  Odessa,  she  had  determined  whom  Sonya  should  meet 
or  avoid,  care  for  or  detest.  It  had  never  occurred  to  either 
of  them  that  it  ever  could  be  otherwise.  And  Katya  was 
fond  of  her  little  sister  as  of  a  child  entrusted  to  her  care,  and 
whom  she  would  protect  and  provide  for  when  the  time  should 
arrive.  .  .  .  Sonya  had  never  spoken  a  word  to  her  of  Kara- 
tayef. The  two  of  them  had  acted  entirely  of  their  own 
guidance,  and  Heaven  alone  could  know  how  far  matters  had 
gone  between  them  already.  .  .  . 

Was  it  possible  that  Sonya  should  suddenly  and  secretly, 
while  Katya  had  been  occupied  with  other  things,  have  de- 
veloped into  an  independent  being  ?  It  was  not  to  be  thought 
of  !  The  change  could  never  have  escaped  her  own  watchful 
eye.  No  doubt  she  felt  a  certain  amount  of  satisfaction  at 
the  attention  paid  her  by  Karatayef;  was  glad,  perhaps,  to 
find  that  she  had  now,  like  other  girls,  a  knight  of  her  own. 
But  she  could  never  mean  anything  serious  .  .  .  impossible. 
She  must  have  recognized  that  she  had  no  right  to  Karatayef — 
that  he  belonged  to  another. .  . . 

But  if  Sonya,  in  her  innocence  and  ignorance,  might  be 
pardoned,  there  was  no  like  excuse  to  be  advanced  for  Niki 
Karatayef.  He  could  not  hide  from  himself  the  fact  that  he 
was  guilty  of  desertion  and  dire  offence.  Katya  scarcely 
knew  herself  whether  she  cared  for  him  or  not.  He  was  big 
and  strong,  but  heavy.  The  others  said  he  was  clever,  but  of 
this  Katya  had  formed  no  personal  opinion.  And  yet  there 
was  something  about  him  which  attracted  her ;  the  dumb  and 
helpless  affection  in  his  eyes,  the  restrained  but  constant 
admiration  with  which  he  followed  her  everywhere;  and 
perhaps  also  some  half -conscious,  instinctive  feeling  that  if 
ever  he  should  be  brought  to  burst  out  into  flame  for  her  sake, 

4 


50  KATYA 

he  would  be  in  that  hour  transformed  into  a  splendid  giant, 
furious  with  love.  .  .  .  For  he  was  not  like  Petya.  Easy  to 
lead,  perhaps,  as  he,  but  deeper  and  more  complex,  more 
violently  a  man.  .  .  . 

And  he  had  dared  to  be  faithless  !  Never  before  had  any 
man  of  whose  existence  she  took  the  slightest  count,  dared  to 
oppose  her  absolute  will.  As  far  back  as  she  could  remember 
she  had  always  been  victorious,  and  as  often  as  any  had  dared 
to  oppose,  she  had  succeeded  in  humbling  them.  This  was  a 
wrong  unbearable,  not  to  her  feelings,  for  these  were  as  yet 
unknown  to  herself,  in  a  kind  of  unconscious  chrysalis  state, 
but  of  all  that  part  of  her  which  had  already  reached  the  full 
height  of  its  womanly  development — her  pride,  her  vanity, 
her  covetousness  of  power,  her  thirst  for  admiration  and 
homage.  She  knew,  beyond  all  doubting,  that  Karatayef  had 
-been  all  she  craved  of  him :  a  page  at  her  court,  a  singer  beneath 
her  window.  And  now  he  had  broken  his  bonds,  and  wore 
another  lady's  favour. 

Katya  stamped  her  foot.     "  Oh,  he  shall  pay  for  this  !" 

Petya's  letter  lay  on  the  table.  She  took  it  and  crunched 
it  in  her  hand — ended  by  tearing  it  into  little  pieces. 

Oh  yes,  she  would  write ;  she  would  keep  her  promise.  But 
not  now;  later  on,  when  she  had  time. 


CHAPTER  V 

THE  OLD  HOUSE  IN  THE  KONNAYA 

GENERAL  NIKOLAI  FEODOROVITCH  KARAT AYEF'S  residence  in 
Odessa  was  one  of  the  finest  old  houses  in  the  Konnaya,  not 
far  from  the  archiepiscopal  palace.  He  had  bought  the  place 
cheaply  some  years  before,  at  an  auction  where  it  had  formed 
part  of  the  property  of  a  ruined  landowner,  and  moved  in  to 
the  apartments  on  the  ground  floor,  letting  out  the  upper  part 
of  the  house  as  offices. 

The  rooms  were  spacious  and  lofty,  almost  palatial.  All  the 
woodwork  was  of  oak,  and  richly  carved,  the  arms  of  the  former 
owner,  who  had  died  a  bankrupt,  and  his  family,  formed  a 
frieze  round  the  panelled  walls  of  the  great  hall  which  had 
served  as  a  dining-room.  A  few  silk  hangings  that  stiil 


THE  OLD  HOUSE  IN  THE  KONNAYA  51 

remained  were  stained  and  faded  with  age  and  neglect,  the 
parquet  flooring  had  been  repaired,  rendering  the  original 
pattern  vague  and  irregular.  The  paint  and  gilding  which  had 
formed  so  rich  a  part  of  the  decoration  had  peeled  off  in  places, 
leaving  dark  spots  and  piebald  patches  on  ceiling,  walls  and 
doors.  The  edges  of  the  double  windows  were  fringed  with 
dirty  fragments  of  felt  and  wadding  left  over  from  the  winter. 
General  Karatayef  was  only  sixty,  but  his  appearance  was 
that  of  a  weary  old  man  continually  shivering  with  cold ;  he 
had  a  horror  of  draughts,  and,  in  spite  of  the  huge  stoves,  it 
was  always  a  matter  of  difficulty  to  thoroughly  warm  the 
great  dilapidated  place. 

It  was  solely  in  order  to  please  his  wife  that  General  Kara- 
tayef had  agreed  to  move  into  the  old  house.  He  himself 
had  not  the  slightest  sympathy  with  her  desire  to  live  in  an 
atmosphere  of  faded  splendour,  in  a  place  fashioned  by  a 
taste  foreign  to  their  own,  and  filled  with  alien  memories.  But 
Anna  Dimitrievna  was  of  a  dreamy,  somewhat  sentimental 
nature,  inclined  to  what  her  husband  was  wont  to  stigmatize 
as  "  romantic  nonsense."  This,  and  her  weakness  for  ferreting 
out,  for  purposes  of  charity,  the  most  extraordinary  human 
oddities  which  she  could  find  in  the  slums  about  the  harbour, 
were  the  only  faults  with  which  Nikolai  Feodorovitch  ever 
had  occasion  to  reproach  her.  She  had  been  a  good  wife  and 
a  faithful  companion  in  the  nomad  years  when,  as  a  penniless 
captain,  he  was  shifted  continually  from  one  miserable  garrison 
in  Siberia  to  another,  or  yet  to  more  comfortless  posts  in  the 
Caucasus,  Poland,  or  White  Russia.  She  had  been  the  tenderest 
of  mothers  to  their  only  child,  spoiling  him  a  little,  perhaps 
and  giving  him  some  share  of  her  own  romantic  fancy,  yet 
not  so  much  but  that  the  boy  grew  up  to  be  her  pride,  not 
undeserving,  either,  of  her  love.  Nikolai  Feodorovitch  was 
not  sentimental,  but  he  loved  his  son  in  a  way,  regarding  him 
as  the  dearest  of  the  treasures  he  had  won ;  the  one  true  joy  of 
his  life,  at  once  the  cause  for  which  he  had  stooped  so  low,  and 
the  object  of  his  uttermost  endeavour. 

General  Karatayef  did  not  shut  up  the  house  after  his  wife's 
death;  he  remained  on  in  the  old  place,  now  more  decayed 
than  ever,  using  only  two  of  the  apartments  himself.  Niki's 
room  was  always  ready  to  receive  him,  but  he  rarely  came, 
and  it  was  perhaps  just  as  well.  Anna  Dimitrievna's  room 


52  KATYA 

had  been  left  untouched  since  the  day  of  her  death;  her  last 
piece  of  embroidery  lay  on  the  work-table  with  the  needle 
marking  where  the  work  had  ceased  for  ever.  The  dust 
accumulated;  Nikolai  Feodorovitch  kept  the  place  locked; 
his  servant Osip, an  old  soldier  who,  with  his  pock-marked  wife, 
looked  after  the  establishment,  were  forbidden  to  enter,  and 
the  General  himself  only  visited  the  room  at  Easter  and  on 
certain  anniversaries.  Here  were  collected  all  the  little 
trifles  Anna  Dimitrievna  had  cared  for;  her  books,  mostly 
cheap  editions  of  religious  works  and  translations  of  love- 
stories  of  all  countries;  her  letters,  and  the  portraits  of  her 
parents,  a  colonel  of  gendarmes,  and  his  wife,  who  had  their 
home  far  off  on  the  Mongolian  frontier  ;  her  wedding  dress,  and 
the  few  modest  jewels  she  had  possessed  from  her  childhood 
before  she  rose  to  rank  as  the  wife  of  the  wealthy  General 
Karatayef .  One  thing  in  particular  he  remembered — a  trea- 
sure he  had  found  on  the  evening  when  he  had  closed  her 
eyes.  It  was  a  mahogany  cabinet,  a  heavy,  awkward  piece 
of  furniture  which  they  had  dragged  about  with  them  over 
two  continents  on  sledge  and  waggon,  ship  and  rail;  an 
ancient  heirloom,  which  she  had  filled  from  top  to  bottom 
with  things  that  belonged  to  Niki.  There  were  clothes  of  his 
from  earliest  childhood  to  the  last  year  at  school,  his  favourite 
toys,  and  every  letter  he  had  ever  written  to  her,  from  the 
first  Easter  and  birthday  greetings,  childishly  scrawled  on 
big  sheets  of  paper  with  coloured  pictures  of  saints  in  one 
corner,  to  the  half-grown  boy's  recitals  of  holiday  adventures 
and  requests  for  pocket-money. 

General  Karatayef  let  the  whole  lie  undisturbed,  and  locked 
the  cabinet  carefully  before  he  left  the  room.  It  was  perhaps 
on  that  very  evening  that  he  had  decided  to  leave  the  place 
untouched  until  he  himself  should  close  his  eyes  for  ever — or 
until  he  should  have  attained  the  object  *of  his  life.  However 
that  might  be,  he  made  no  attempt  to  find  another  home. 
Osip  and  his  wife  knew  their  master,  and  forbore  to  ask. 
Everything  remained  as  it  was.  Nikolai  Feodorovitch  wore 
out  his  modest,  hermit-like  existence  amid  the  faded  luxury 
of  the  lofty,  silent  rooms,  close  to  the  locked  and  hidden  shrine 
where  the  dust  of  years  grew  thick  and  ever  thicker. 

Despite  this  atmosphere  of  ancient  memories  and  dusty 
dilapidation,  the  house  in  the  Konnaya  had  its  advantages. 


THE  OLD  HOUSE  IN  THE  KONNAYA  53 

It  was  conveniently  situated,  for  instance,  for  the  General's 
daily  walk  down  to  the  great  new  suburb  which  was  growing 
up  to  the  north-west  of  the  old  harbour,  intended  to  provide 
healthy  and  comfortable  housing  for  the  working  population 
which  the  quick  development  of  industry  and  transport 
attracted  in  continually  increasing  numbers  to  the  town.  And 
among  the  General's  tenants  on  the  upper  floors  of  the  house 
itself  was  the  firm  of  Mandelberg  and  Krushofski.  Y.  I. 
Mandelberg,  the  head  of  the  firm,  was  one  of  Karatayef 's  most 
intimate  acquaintances — the  only  one,  indeed,  with  whom  he 
appeared  to  be  on  terms  of  intimacy  at  all.  It  was  so  easy  to 
send  Osip  upstairs  with  a  message,  asking  Mandelberg  to  come 
down  for  a  moment.  And  it  was  no  trouble  to  glance  through 
the  grating  of  the  hall-door  as  the  staff  left  at  the  end  of  the 
day,  and  call  to  the  chief,  who  always  came  down  last,  with 
his  fat  portfolio  under  one  arm,  and  who  generally  made  a 
point  of  pausing  for  a  moment  outside  in  case  his  services 
should  be  needed. 

The  walls  of  the  room  which  served  General  Karatayef  as 
office  and  dining-room  were  draped  with  frayed  silk  tapestries 
that  had  once  been  crimson,  but  were  now  the  colour  of  rotten 
strawberries.  Against  this  background  hung  a  series  of  maps 
and  plans,  showing  the  streets  and  house-blocks  of  the  new 
suburb,  with  the  regular  curve  of  the  coast  and  its  wooded 
slopes  dotted  with  villas  that  stretched  away  southward  from 
the  town  itself.  At  the  end  of  the  railway-line  close  to  the 
Alexander  Park,  where  planes  and  acacias  swayed  in  the  breeze 
on  the  farthest  slope  of  the  plateau,  lay  the  warehouses  and 
the  great  military  depots,  then  the  berths  of  the  Levant  and 
Orient  boats,  the  quarantine  station,  shut  in  by  a  long,  wide 
mole,  curving  like  a  great  horn  far  out  to  sea,  and  almost 
embracing  the  distant  breakwater.  Farther  on  lay  the  new 
harbour,  enclosed  by  two  short  stone  arms,  the  coal  quay,  and 
the  flat  beach  broadening  out  beneath  the  plateau  with  its 
innumerable  houses;  above  it  lay  the  Nikolaiefski,  the  great 
boulevard  which  runs  through  the  wealthiest  quarter  of  the 
town,  planted  with  shady  planes,  and  cooled  by  the  breeze 
from  the  sea  that  stretched  away  below  to  the  horizon.  Here 
lie  the  Imperial  Palace  and  the  official  residences  of  the  highest 
civil  and  military  authorities  in  the  Government  of  Kherson ; 
here  stands  Dimitrenko's  mighty  monument  to  Katherine  II., 


54  KATYA 

flanked  by  statues  by  Patiomkin,  Subof,  Volant  and  Ribas, 
and  here  the  mighty  stairway  of  two  hundred  steps  leading 
down  to  the  harbour  and  the  sea. 

But  the  harbour-works  are  continually  extending  out 
towards  the  north-west.  Beside  the  coal  quay  lies  the  local 
traffic  harbour — meeting-point  for  all  the  coast  steamers  of  the 
Crimea,  the  Caucasus,  and  th?  Azof.  Up  in  this  corner,  to  the 
north  of  the  old  Odessa,  the  foreshore  widens,  the  cliff  receding 
far  inland,  forming  a  most  convenient  point  for  extensions  of 
the  harbour  itself  which,  owing  to  the  increasing  demands  upon 
its  accommodation,  has  thrown  out  branches  towards  the 
north-west.  And  the  town  itself  runs  down  to  make  connec- 
tion with  the  harbour-works  ;  the  appearance  of  the  plain  is 
altered,  and  house  after  house  has  sprung  up  among  the  grey- 
green,  salt-bitten  fields  that  lie  open  to  the  east  wind.  The 
suburb  of  Peressip  has  already  its  shops  and  regular  streets, 
but  the  builders  had  found  it  impossible  to  cope  with  the 
demands  of  the  working  population  drawn  to  the  spot  by  the 
local  traffic  harbour  and  its  branches. 

The  maps  in  General  Karatayef's  room  showed,  with  a 
wealth  of  detail,  the  progress  of  this  growing  suburb.  There 
were  three  main  colour  groups — blue,  indicating  the  parts  of 
Peressip  already  built  upon  and  occupied;  red,  representing 
the  ground  belonging  to  the  General  himself;  and  green, 
showing  the  extent  of  Prince  Rilinski's  undertakings.  The 
green,  which  covered  considerably  more  space  than  the  red, 
ran  in  a  long,  broad  stretch  parallel  with  the  coastline — a 
magnificent  view,  as  Advocate  Mandelberg  had  been  careful 
to  point  out  to  the  Prince  at  the  time.  The  red  did  not 
touch  the  coast,  but  lay  in  a  compact  circular  patch  nearest 
the  old  town  and  the  harbour-works.  Different  shadings 
showed  the  extent  to  which  building  had  already  been  carried 
out.  The  red  grew  darker  and  darker ;  only  a  little  corner 
towards  the  north  remained  pale  pink;  the  green  began  in  a 
fine  deep  shade,  but  paled  away  to  a  scarcely  distinguishable 
tinge  of  colour.  The  whole  thing  could  not  be  more  clearly 
demonstrated. 

General  Karatayef  had  asked  his  agent  to  kindly  step  in  and 
look  at  the  maps,  in  order  to  verify  their  agreement  with  his 
own  calculations. 

"  Perfectly  correct,  Your  Excellency;  correct  to  the  last 


THE  OLD  HOUSE  IN  THE  KONNAYA     55 

detail,  as  indeed  " — with  a  bow, — "  was  but  to  be  expected. 
A  most  accurate  —  if  I  may  say  so,  a  most  remarkably 
accurate — piece  of  work." 

"  Very  well,  then,  Yakof  Isakovitch,  and  now — be  so  good 
as  to  tell  me  how  far  we  are  at  present  according  to  your 
reckoning." 

"  As  regards  Your  Excellency's  part  of  the  undertaking  " 
— he  pointed  to  the  red  patch — "  all  that  we  have  ready  for 
occupation  is  already  let.  The  remainder  .  .  ." 

"  Yes,  yes;  never  mind  about  my  part.     Go  on." 

"  With  Prince  Rilinski's  ground  the  case  is — er — somewhat 
different.  It  is  an  extensive  undertaking;  more  so  than  I 
myself  had  imagined.  I  do  not  mean  to  say  that  there  is  no 
demand  for  such  tenements  as  are  completed — I  could  have 
let  them  several  times  over  at  a  good  rent — but  the  tenants 
complain  of  the  cold  in  winter  and  the  heat  in  summer.  The 
houses  are  quite  unprotected,  facing  as  they  do  right  on  to 
the  sea.  The  demands  of  the  lower  classes  in  this  respect 
have  greatly  increased  of  late.  I  should  be  sorry  to  attach 
too  much  importance  to  such  complaints ;  tenants  are  always 
difficult  to  please.  But,  in  my  opinion,  Prince  Rilinski  is 
making  a  great  mistake  in  not  hurrying  forward  the  work  on 
the  remaining  part  of  the  ground  with  all  speed." 

The  agent  followed  with  his  finger  the  course  of  the  narrow 
green  stripe  that  paled  away  towards  the  north.  "  The 
success  of  the  whole  plan  depended  from  the  first  upon  its 
being  carried  out  at  once  as  a  whole,  and  as  speedily  as 
possible,  in  order  to  force  the  stream  to  follow  us,  and  obtain, 
so  to  speak,  the  best  of  the  human  material  on  which  we  are 
dependent  before  others  began  elsewhere.  Already  new 
houses  are  springing  up  behind  ours.  Your  Excellency  will 
see  here  " — he  pointed  again  to  the  map — "  how  we  are 
actually  protecting  the  buildings  which  are  growing  up  like 
mushrooms  to  the  west  of  us.  I  consider  this  competition 
highly  dangerous,  apart  from  the  great  loss  in  interest 
which  is  an  inevitable  result  of  the  slow  realization  of  the 
ground." 

"  You  have,  no  doubt,  pointed  this  out  to  Prince  Rilinski  ?" 

"  Emphatically,  Your  Excellency — most  emphatically.  I 
felt  it  my  duty  to  do  so." 

"  Then  why  does  he  not  hurry  forward  the  work  ?"     There 


56  KATYA 

was,  perhaps,  the  slightest  possible  gleam  in  the  General's 
little  sharp  eyes,  but  he  chose  that  moment  to  bend  down 
and  pick  up  an  invisible  thread  from  the  floor. 

"  Prince  Rilinski  has  entered  upon  an  undertaking  which 
is  beyond  his  means.  Such  of  his  securities  which  were  easily 
negotiable  have  been  swallowed  up  long  ago;  also  the  loans 
raised  on  the  ground  itself  and  the  buildings.  To  tell  the 
truth,  I  was  surprised  when  he  on  the  last  occasion  handed 
me  a  certain  sum  in  stocks.  I  did  not  know  he  possessed 
them." 

"  Neither  did  I,"  murmured  the  General.  A  fragment  of 
thread  in  a  crack  of  the  floor  seemed  to  have  attracted  his 
attention. 

"  However,  there  they  were,  and  we  managed  to  stave  off 
difficulties  once  more;  but,  in  my  opinion,  we  have  now 
touched  bottom.  Prince  Rilinski  has  not  sufficient  capital 
available  to  carry  through  a  plan  of  such  dimensions.  Of 
course  a  man  of  his  rank,  and  with  his  possessions,  would 
always  be  able  to  raise  the  necessary  funds,  more  especially 
when  he  has  such  friends  as  Your  Excellency  .  .  ." 

"  Never  mind  the  friendship,  Yakof  Isakovitch.     Go  on." 

"  But  he  will  be  obliged  to  take  measures  of  some  sort, 
and  that  without  delay.  To  stop  the  work  now  would  mean 
more,  in  my  opinion,  than  Prince  Rilinski  can  afford  to  lose. 
Between  ourselves,  Your  Excellency,  it  would  be  ruin — and 
for  a  man  with  his  name  ..." 

"  Am  I  right  in  supposing  that  a  further,  say,  one  million 
two  hundred  thousand  roubles  would  be  sufficient  to  ensure 
the  completion  of  the  work  in  something  like  a  couple  of 
years  ?" 

"  Exactly  what  I  have  reckoned  out  myself." 

"  And  Prince  Rilinski's  unencumbered  property  would 
suffice  to  cover  the  amount  ?" 

"  Most  assuredly.  Even  without  the  family  jewels,  the 
estate  itself  would  be  sufficient.  And  security  of  that  sort 
cannot  run  away." 

"  H'm."  The  General  thought  for  a  moment.  "  May  T 
ask,  Yakof  Isakovitch,  has  Prince  Sergei  Arkadievitch  never 
let  fall  any  expression  of— er— surprise  at  your  acting  simul- 
taneously for  himself  and  me  ?" 

"  Never.    To  tell  the  truth,  I  do  not  think  Prince  Rilinski 


THE  OLD  HOUSE  IN  THE  KONNAYA  57 

attaches  much  importance  to  formalities  of  that  sort,  if, 
indeed,  he  notices  them  at  all." 

"  It  just  occurred  to  me,  that's  all;  for  if  there  should — let 
us  say,  if  you  yourself  should  entertain  any  doubt  as  to  the 
possibility  of  continuing  to  fill  the  double  position,  I  should 
at  once  be  willing,  for  my  part,  to  dispense  with  your  services, 
highly  as  I  value  them." 

The  agent  looked  startled.  "  Dispense  with  .  .  ."  he 
stammered.  "  Your  Excellency  surely  cannot  think  .  .  ." 

"Well,  perhaps  I  didn't."  The  General  played  with  his 
cross.  "  But  rather  than  deprive  Prince  Rilinski  of  your 
assistance,  I  would  ..." 

Advocate  Mandelberg  interrupted  hastily : 

"  I  hope  to  be  able  to  retain  the  confidence  of  both  my 
honoured  clients." 

"  Very  well.  I  hope  so  likewise."  The  General  emphasized 
the  word.  He  might  have  saved  himself  the  trouble;  nothing 
of  importance  escaped  the  attention  of  Yakof  Isakovitch. 
"  And  if  this,  shall  we  say,  mutual  hope  should  be  fulfilled, 
then  I  do  not  doubt  " — again  a  thread  upon  the  floor  caught 
the  General's  eye ;  he  bent  down  to  pick  it  up,  and  continued, 
still  stooping — "  that  the  Kherson  Bank  will  place  the  one 
million  two  hundred  thousand  roubles  at  the  Prince's  dis- 
position; against  proper  security,  of  course,  at  a  reasonable 
interest.  I  should  also  consider  it  very  natural  that  the 
necessary  negotiations  and  the  preparation  of  the  documents 
should  be  entrusted  to  your  firm-." 

"  Really,  Your  Excellency,  this  is  most  kind  .  .  .  most 
kind  .  .  ." 

"  I  would,  however,  like  to  point  out  one  thing,  Yakof 
Isakovitch.  You  said  a  moment  ago,  if  I  remember  rightly  " 
— there  seemed  to  be  a  remarkable  number  of  threads  on  the 
floor — "  that  it  would  not  be  necessary  to  include  the  family 
jewels.  As  far  as  I  am  aware,  we  are  dealing  with  very  con- 
siderable sums  of  money;  it  might  therefore  be  as  well  to 
reckon  with  the  family  jewels — as  well." 

"  Your  Excellency  may  rely  upon  me." 

"  Not  I  alone,  Yakof  Isakovitch,  I  hope.     Remember  that." 

The  General  stroked  his  shiny  head.     "  Prince  Rilinski  would 

also  like  to  be  able  to  place  his  continued  confidence  in  you." 

"  Of  course,  of  course,"  saidjihe  agent  hurriedly.     "  And 


58  KATYA 

when  does  Your  Excellency  suppose  that  the  Kherson  Bank 
will  open  the  credit  account  ?" 

"  My  good  Yakof  Isakovitch,  need  you  really  ask  ?  The 
Kherson  Bank  will  be  ready  to  meet  any  demands  that  may 
be  necessitated  by  the  Prince's  building  projects,  as  soon  as 
it  has  approved  the  proffered  security." 

"  It  might  still  be  possible  to  raise  further  loans  on  the 
ground  and  material  ..." 

"  Other  banks  might  possibly  be  induced  .  .  .  but  the 
Kherson  Bank — I  scarcely  think  so.  I  must  leave  it  entirely 
to  the  Prince's  man  of  business  to  advise  what  is  best  to  be 
done  in  the  circumstances." 

The  agent  bowed.  "  Has  Your  Excellency  any  further 
commands  ?" 

"  I  hope  I  have  not  been  taking  up  your  time.  One  word 
more.  It  would  be  a  pity,  would  it  not,  if  such  a  sound  and 
promising  enterprise  should  fall  to  pieces,  and  a  man  of  such 
position  be  brought  to  ruin,  just  as  his  children — charming 
children,  delightful  young  people — were  about  to  make  a 
start  in  life  ?" 

"  Most  regrettable,  indeed.  A  catastrophe,  not  only  for 
himself  and  his  family,  but  for  the  whole  of  the  Russian 
nobility." 

"  I  do  not  doubt,  Yakof  Isakovitch,  that  you  will  be  able 
to  make  this  clear  to  Prince  Rilinski,  and — er  " — again  the 
General's  fingers  sought  the  floor — "  with  all  possible  delicacy, 
you  understand  ?  Delicacy  is  absolutely  necessary." 

"  I  think  I  understand  Your  Excellency's  meaning." 

"  I  think  so  too.  It  is  never  wise  to  act  recklessly,  Yakof 
Isakovitch." 

"  Perfectly  right,  Your  ..." 

"  And  so  we  will  take  care  to  avoid  any  hasty  action  on 
either  side." 

"  Exactly." 

"  Thanks,  Yakof  Isakovitch.     That  is  all  for  to-day." 

General  Karatayef  took  his  meals  alone,  with  Osip  to  wait 
at  table.  Osip's  livery  consisted  of  an  ancient  uniform  much 
the  worse  for  wear,  the  original  buttons  of  which  had  gradu- 
ally given  place  to  substitutes  of  metal,  bone,  and  horn.  All 
the  year  round,  without  regard  to  temperature  or  weather, 
he  wore  knee  boots  of  heavy  greased  leather.  His  thick, 


THE  OLD  HOUSE  IN  THE  KONNAYA     59 

greyish  hair,  cut  short  at  the  neck,  and  his  great  curly  beard, 
gave  him  the  appearance  of  something  between  a  worthy 
priest  and  a  wild  man  of  the  woods.  Both  he  and  his  wife, 
Kapitolina,  who  acted  as  cook,  were  from  the  neighbourhood 
of  Tomsk  in  Siberia.  Both  had  been  in  the  service  of  the 
family  for  many  years,  and  Kapitolina  could  still  remember 
the  days  in  her  late  mistress's  time,  when  she  had  had  a  maid 
under  her;  there  had  even  been  a  couple  of  years  when  she 
had  two.  But  neither  she  nor  Osip  had  ever  regarded  Odessa 
as  anything  but  a  stage  on  the  long  wandering  which  it  had 
fallen  to  their  lot  to  undertake  together  with  General  Kara- 
tayef,  and  both  looked  forward  hopefully  to  the  day  when 
they  should  return  to  their  little  village  in  far-away  Siberia, 
where  friends  and  kin  waited  to  hear  of  all  the  wonders  they 
had  seen  in  their  long  exile. 

Kapitolina's  cooking  was  not  perhaps  remarkable  for 
variety.  One  thing,  however,  was  certain — no  woman  in 
all  the  wide  lands  of  Russia  could  make  a  better  cabbage 
soup  ;  therefore  she  made  it  every  day,  and  whatever  happen- 
ings might  shake  the  world,  whatever  intricate  plans  be 
threading  the  loom  of  General  Karatayef's  brain,  he  might 
be  sure  that  Kapitolina  waited  him  with  cabbage  soup. 
It  is  possible  that  even  Nikolai  Feodorovitch,  for  all  his 
Spartan  habits,  might  after  a  space  of  years  have  ventured  a 
mild  protest  against  this  daily  evidence  of  Kapitolina's  skill 
in  a  somewhat  restricted  field  of  activity,  where  her  talent 
had  long  since  been  acknowledged  as  unsurpassed;  but  what 
could  such  protest  profit  him,  or  any  ?  Kapitolina  would 
have  pointed  out,  with  most  authoritative  consciousness  of 
right,  that  there  were  ways  and  ways  of  preparing  cabbage 
soup,  according  as  the  ingredients  were  chosen  and  blended. 
There  were  various  sorts  of  stock,  as  there  were  various  kinds 
of  cabbage;  one  could  add  sour  cream  or  omit  the  same. 
Dumplings  might  or  might  not  be  included — dumplings, 
which  in  themselves  provided  scope  for  far-reaching  originality 
and  fertile  resource.  But  even  the  transcendent  art  of  Kapi- 
tolina had  not  yet  attained  to  the  making  of  bricks  without 
straw;  the  palace  in  the  Konnaya  was  permeated  with  a 
perpetual  aroma  of  cabbage,  the  incense,  as  it  were,  of  that 
ancient  shrine. 

As  soon  as  the  meal  was  over,  and  Osip  had  cleared  away, 


60  KATYA 

General  Karatayef  turned  once  more  to  his  maps  and  calcula- 
tions. Then  came  to  him  that  which  he  had  known  must  come 
—the  thing  that  he  had  fought,  night  after  night,  for  years — 
an  irresistible  temptation  to  the  most  innocent  of  vices,  against 
which  some  conscience  in  himself  continually  strove  in  vain. 

Restlessly,  anxiously  he  walked  up  and  down  the  patch- 
work floor,  the  crazy  parquet-work  creaking  with  many  voices 
under  his  feet.  It  seemed  a  chorus  of  subdued  demoniac 
laughter — a  jeering  whisper  of  malicious  fiends  that  followed 
every  way  he  went.  He  moved  in  narrowing  circles  round 
the  writing-table  with  its  roomy  cupboards,  strode  manfully 
away,  as  in  irrevocable  decision  .  .  .  only  to  return,  with 
footsteps  of  a  thief,  the  scornful  whisper  sinking  with  his 
lightened  tread  to  a  sibilant  breath  of  exulting  anticipation. 

Hastily  he  opened  the  cupboard,  and  drew  forth  cloth  and 
canvas,  coloured  silks  and  needles,  scissors,  thimble,  frame, 
and  all  the  requisites  appertaining  to  fine  embroidery. 

It  was  ridiculous;  he  knew  it.  Night  after  night  he  had 
told  himself  that  it  was  incompatible  with  his  dignity;  he 
would  never  be  able  to  face  his  brother  officers  if  it  were 
known.  But  the  work  had  become  a  passion,  at  once  a 
stimulant  and  a  sedative ;  he  clung  to  it  as  men  cling  to  drink 
or  drugs.  His  wife  was  the  only  being  who  had  ever  known 
the  secret  that  was  his  torture  and  his  delight ;  and  now  that 
Anna  Dimitrievna  was  dead,  the  passion  grew  and  grew  upon 
him  in  his  solitary  life.  Neither  Osip  nor  Kapitolina  knew 
of  it;  he  worked  locked  in  his  room,  and  gathered  up  with  the 
utmost  care  all  traces  of  his  doing,  as  if  it  were  a  crime — hence 
his  eternal  habit  of  bending  down  to  pick  up  invisible  pins 
and  threads.  He  saw  about  him  everywhere  the  tell-tale 
fragments  from  these  secret  solitary  orgies,  in  which  he  revelled 
night  after  night. 

Some  accidental  circumstances  had  led  him,  years  ago,  in 
a  distant  garrison,  to  try  his  hand  at  the  work,  and  little  by 
little  the  interest  had  grown  upon  him;  he  ventured  upon 
tasks  of  increasing  difficulty.  It  was  an  innocent  occupation, 
and  served  to  while  away  the  idle  evenings  at  his  lonely  post 
in  a  fashion  that  appealed  to  his  solitary  nature  and  his  fond- 
ness for  accurate  work.  Before  he  knew  it,  it  had  become  a 
part  of  his  existence;  the  hobby  became  an  art.  He  felt 
himself  both  painter  and  poet  as  he  bent  over  his  work.  The 


THE  OLD  HOUSE  IN  THE  KONNAYA  61 

sins  and  sorrows  of  his  life,  its  hopes  and  endeavours,  were 
woven  into  those  long  hours  spent  with  needle  and  thread; 
the  patterns  and  pictures  that  sprang  from  his  imagination 
served  in  some  manner  to  relieve  the  weight  of  heavy  thoughts 
upon  his  mind. 

He  sold  all  that  he  did;  the  value  of  his  work  seemed  to 
him  in  no  wise  lessened  by  the  fact  that  it  became  a  ware 
upon  the  market.  Neither  poet  nor  painter  refuse  to  accept 
money  for  the  products  of  their  art,  even  though  fashioned 
out  of  their  heart's  blood,  and  it  was  no  inconsiderable 
amount  which  he  received ;  all  that  he  did  was  well  paid  for. 
Although  his  only  sister  was  long  since  dead,  he  continued 
to  do  business  with  the  dealers  in  her  name,  and  the  non- 
existent lady,  whose  address  was  c/o  General  Karatayef, 
Konnaya  37,  Odessa,  had  a  considerable  account  with  some 
of  the  leading  firms  in  Moscow  and  St.  Petersburg,  Warsaw, 
and  Kief.  She  had  lived  and  died  without  ever  knowing 
the  fame  of  her  handiwork  in  the  chief  cities  of  Russia. 

And  so  the  work  went  on.  Night  after  night  saw  General 
Karatayef  seated  alone  in  the  lofty,  silent  room,  playing  upon 
the  scale  of  silks,  now  with  fierce  colours  of  a  cry,  now  in  pale 
hues  of  plaintive  whispering,  such  music  as  his  mastery 
ordained,  and  as  the  needle  played  through  the  tight-drawn 
stuff  his  thoughts  wandered  many  ways. 

The  wealth  he  had  amassed  had  not  been  honestly  obtained. 
No  wonder  that  all  sorts  of  rumours  were  current  as  to  its 
origin.  An  officer  of  supplies  and  transport  whose  family 
was  of  second-rate  provincial  nobility,  and  without  any  con- 
siderable private  means,  could  not  become  a  Croesus  without 
exciting  envious  report ;  but  there  was  no  danger  of  any  open 
accusation.  From  the  day  when  Nikolai  Feodorovitch  had 
made  his  first  doubtful  transaction  with  the  contractors,  he 
had,  in  his  then  subordinate  position,  taken  good  care  to  render 
himself  unassailable  from  above:  All  through  his  period  of 
service  he  had  invariably  considered  the  interests  of  both 
superiors  and  inferiors;  his  principle  was  never  to  compromise 
himself  alone.  However  much  he  might  demand  for  himself, 
there  was  always  something  over  for  the  others.  His  natural 
acumen  and  methodical  instinct  forbade  him  ever  to  risk  such 
action  as  might  attract  attention,  or  involve  the  cutting-off 
of  any  source  of  profit.  The  troops  served  by  his  depart- 


62  KATYA 

ment  never  had  occasion  for  more  complaint  than  was  cus- 
tomary and  general ;  the  horses  were  not  poorer,  the  material 
no  worse.  His  system  was  carefully  adapted,  not  to  the  means 
of  the  State,  but  to  those  of  the  contractors,  and  even  here 
he  showed  a  moderation  which  won  confidence  on  all  sides. 
Nothing  was  farther  from  his  plans  than  the  attainment  of 
immediate  wealth  by  the  sudden  execution  of  a  big  coup. 
He  was  no  gambler;  his  enterprise  was  based  on  far-seeing 
calculation.  His  accounts  were  admirable  ;  never  the  slightest 
error  or  irregularity  came  to  light,  for  they  contained  none 
such,  being  simply  and  consistently  false  in  every  detail, 
from  beginning  to  end.  Prices  somehow  rose  wherever 
Karatayef  happened  to  be,  and  fell  as  a  rule  when  he  was 
transferred.  He  went  about  the  country,  spreading  corrup- 
tion on  his  path,  but  everywhere  exhibiting  a  zeal  and  power 
of  organization  which  secured  him  comparatively  rapid  pro- 
motion. Not  a  single  decoration  to  which  his  position  at 
any  one  stage  might  entitle  him  was  lacking  at  the  proper 
moment ;  and  if  there  were  some  few  who  were  aware  that  this 
quiet  and  unassuming  man  had  amassed  a  fortune  before 
reaching  the  rank  of  colonel,  he  in  his  turn  knew  so  much 
about  themselves  that  it  was  wiser  to  keep  silence.  Kara- 
tayef had  made  his  master-stroke  in  connection  with  some 
irregularities  at  a  certain  garrison  in  Poland.  Shortly  after 
his  arrival  he  had  discovered  that  an  extensive  system  of 
falsification  had  been  in  operation  there  for  years.  He  him- 
self desired  no  sort  of  co-operation  with  superiors  or  inferiors 
who  went  to  work  in  such  a  clumsy  fashion;  on  the  other 
hand,  he  had  no  wish  to  make  enemies.  He  contented  him- 
self, therefore,  with  dropping  a  hint,  in  the  strictest  secrecy, 
to  the  Central  Administration  in  St.  Petersburg.  A  high 
official  shortly  afterwards  made  his  appearance  at  the  garri- 
son, exposed  the  whole  fraudulent  system,  and  received  all 
the  honour  of  the  discovery.  But  Karatayef's  reputation 
increased  considerably  in  the  proper  quarters,  and  promotion 
followed  swiftly,  and  as  he  rose  in  rank  his  share  of  fraudulent 
profit  increased  pro  rata  ;  while,  on  the  other  hand,  his  way  of 
living  seemed  to  become  more  and  more  modest.  None  save 
the  initiated  would  have  believed  him  to  be  a  wealthy  man, 
and  long  before  envious  competitors  or  honest  colleagues 
could  work  their  way  through  the  entanglement  of  complicity 


63 

with  which  he  had  surrounded  his  position,  he  evacuated  it 
himself.  No  one  dared  to  touch  him,  both  on  account  of  the 
difficulty  of  formulating  any  distinct  charge,  and  also  owing 
to  the  number  of  others  who  would  be  implicated  in  his  fall. 
General  Karatayef  was  allowed  to  live  in  peace,  unmolested 
and  unobtrusive,  as  he  most  desired.  He  was  an  episode  of 
the  past,  nothing  more. 

A)l  this  infamy,  however,  this  long  career  of  fraud  and 
consequent  humiliation,  was  not  without  its  cause.  Nikolai 
Feodorovitch  was  avaricious,  yet  the  vice  was  rather  acquired 
than  inherent.  He  had  been  guilty  of  acts  which  might  have 
sent  him  in  chains  to  Siberia,  yet  he  was  not  a  criminal  by 
nature.  It  was  not  for  himself  he  had  cheated  and  stolen, 
it  was  not  his  own  happiness  which  he  sought  to  build  up 
with  money  fraudulently  obtained.  He  had  sinned  for  love, 
abasing  himself  for  the  sake  of  his  son. 

It  began  before  the  boy  had  yet  begun  to  go  to  school. 
Anna  Dimitrievna  worshipped  the  child  in  a  manner  which 
Karatayef  called  "  extravagant  and  unhealthy,"  but  which 
yet  touched  him  deeply;  and  he  let  himself  be  carried  away 
by  the  hopes  he  himself  cherished  for  his  son's  future.  He 
was  at  that  time  stationed  at  a  garrison  in  one  of  the  Siberian 
provinces,  a  scattered  and  disorderly  settlement,  with  sheds 
for  houses,  morasses  instead  of  streets,  lavish  of  space  and 
careless  in  construction,  like  the  hastily  flung-up  townships 
on  a  gold  reef.  The  only  connection  with  the  world  was  by 
means  of  horsed  messengers,  who  took  weeks  to  cover  the 
distance  between  the  garrison  post  and  the  nearest  station 
on  the  great  Trans-Ural  route,  by  which  the  mails  from 
Russia  reached  them  at  intervals  of  months.  The  winter 
cold  made  life  a  misery  for  nearly  half  the  year,  while  in 
summer  myriads  of  mosquitoes  tortured  the  immigrant 
sojourner  to  the  verge  of  madness — some,  indeed,  beyond, 
for  cases  of  insanity  were  far  from  rare.  These  were  the 
surroundings  in  which  he  spent  the  first  part  of  his  married 
life,  and  looking  forward  into  the  future  he  saw  before  him 
nothing  but  a  continual  wandering  from  place  to  place,  all 
differing  little  from  this  present  desolation,  all  more  or  less 
remote  from  comfort  and  civilization,  and  always  the  same 
unchanging  greyness  of  monotony — the  pitiful  littleness  of 
outlook  which  is  the  penniless  officer's  inevitable  fate. 


64  KATYA 

The  boy  should  not  be  doomed  to  such  a  life.  His  know- 
ledge of  the  power  and  greatness  of  his  country  should  not  be 
drawn  merely  from  the  crushing  sense  of  immeasurable  extent 
which  was  the  first  and  last  impression  of  the  endless  journeys 
when  they  sledged  from  town  to  distant  town  through  lands 
inhabited  by  unknown  peoples.  His  son  should  not  be  one 
of  those  subordinate  officers  or  minor  civil  servants  who  are 
thankful  for  a  mean  position  in  some  remote  and  deadly 
outlying  station,  where  they  can  exist  in  slow  stagnation  till 
they  die. 

Karatayef  had  vowed  to  himself  and  his  wife  that  he  would 
thrust  aside  every  obstacle  that  barred  the  boy's  path  upward 
to  higher  levels  of  society  than  that  to  which  his  parents 
belonged  and  to  greater  opportunities  of  development  than 
had  fallen  to  their  lot.  And  as  the  boy  grew  up  both  felt 
more  sure  that  he  would  not  disappoint  them ;  he  was  quick 
and  intelligent,  loving  and  obedient  towards  his  parents,  and 
though  now  and  then  capable  of  violent  rage,  he  always  sought 
to  make  amends,  and  often  fell  into  deep  abstracted  fits  of 
meditation.  It  was  clear  that  he  was  destined  to  develop 
into  something  beyond  the  average. 

Karatayef's  first  attempts  at  fraud  were  immediately  suc- 
cessful, and  gradually  both  he  and  his  wife  began  to  aim  yet 
higher  for  their  son.  They  sent  him  to  a  first-class  school, 
taking  care  that  the  boy  should  lack  nothing  in  the  way  of 
good  clothes  and  pocket-money,  enabling  him  to  take  his  place 
among  the  sons  of  well-to-do  families.  From  the  very  be- 
ginning he  was  to  be  prepared  for  a  splendid  career ;  nothing 
was  too  good  for  him.  At  last,  when  the  time  came  for  him 
to  make  his  choice  of  a  profession,  he  declared  his  wish  to 
enter  the  diplomatic  service.  The  Near  East  was  at  the 
time — after  the  Russo-Turkish  War  of  1877-78 — a  point  of 
interest  throughout  Russia.  The  ancient  conflict  between 
Turk  and  Slav  was  a  burning  question  among  the  youth  of 
the  day.  It  was  not  surprising,  therefore,  that  Niki  Kara- 
tayef selected  the  Orient  as  the  sphere  for  his  future  career. 
Both  his  parents  rejoiced  at  this  decision,  which  was  entirely 
in  accordance  with  their  own  hopes;  they  recognized,  however, 
that  it  was  no  longer  sufficient  merely  to  provide  the  money 
for  their  son's  expenses  from  month  to  month.  The  day 
would  come  when  he  would  need  a  fortune  at  his  back.  Kara- 


THE  OLD  HOUSE  IN  THE  KONNAYA     65 

tayef  had  already  considered  this  necessity,  and  set  himself 
now  to  prepare  ways  and  means  of  meeting  it.  Again  his 
demands  increased,  until  at  last  General  Karatayef,  seeking 
money  for  his  son's  career,  surged  forward  like  an  avalanche. 

Anna  Dimitrievna  was  to  some  extent  in  his  confidence. 
She  never  asked,  nor  did  he  ever  volunteer  the  slightest  word, 
as  to  whence  the  money  came ;  but  he  knew  that  she  guessed 
the  truth.  He  knew  also  that  in  her  inmost  heart  she  thanked 
him.  Despite  her  ceaseless  anxiety,  she  never  dared  to  reach 
out  a  hand  to  check  the  career  which  in  her  eyes  continually 
threatened  them  with  ruin.  She  prayed  to  God  for  forgive- 
ness, but  she  prayed  also  that  He  would  avert  the  danger 
that  threatened  her  husband  on  his  path  of  stealth.  And  the 
years  went  on,  and  still  no  retribution  overtook  him,  until 
at  last  she  grew  to  believe  that  God  had  heard  her  prayers. 
Karatayef  remembered  how  on  her  death-bed  she  had  whis- 
pered to  him  that  God  had  been  merciful  to  them  for  the 
sake  of  their  great  love,  and  pressing  his  hand  had  thanked 
him. 

She  had  suffered  much  in  the  course  of  their  life  together. 
But  the  long  years  of  fraud  had  also  left  their  mark  on  him ; 
the  ceaseless  secret  planning  and  striving  for  more  and  ever 
more,  the  cautious  disposition  of  his  gains,  which  he  was  forced 
to  place  in  such  a  fashion  as  should  render  it  impossible  for 
any  to  perceive  their  extent.  And  all  the  time  incessant  care 
and  toil  were  necessary  to  preserve  and  even  heighten  his 
own  good  name ;  his  son  would  need  a  father  whose  rank  and 
position  were  unimpeachable.  The  slightest  stain  upon  his 
own  reputation  would  be  pitilessly  transmitted,  the  loss  of 
his  good  fame  would  destroy  all  that  he  had  striven  to  build 
up.  It  was  a  heavy  burden  that  weighed  upon  his  shoulders, 
and  it  grew  heavier  to  bear  as  years  went  on.  Moreover,  the 
goal  of  his  ambition  was  ever  moving  forward — new  possi- 
bilities, new  needs,  continually  arising,  and,  wearied  and 
ageing  as  he  was,  new  effort  was  unceasingly  demanded. 

He  had  amassed  a  considerable  fortune,  he  had  attained 
the  rank  of  General,  and  bore  all  the  decorations  which  per- 
tained to  his  rank.  No  shipwreck  had  hitherto  occurred 
upon  his  perilous  voyage.  Once  or  twice  he  had  fancied  for 
a  moment  that  it  was  at  an  end;  but  only  for  a  moment. 
Fresh  demands  immediately  made  themselves  apparent.  The 

5 


66  KATYA 

boy  must  have  friends  and  companions  of  the  right  stamp, 
influential  acquaintances,  the  entree  to  first-class  houses,  and 
the  prospect  of  an  advantageous  alliance  within  that  circle 
of  society  to  which  he  was  to  belong.  General  Karatayef 
had  already  achieved  much  in  his  fight  for  his  son's  future; 
here,  however,  it  seemed  impossible  to  go  farther.  Neither 
he  nor  his  wife  were  in  any  way  equipped  for  a  purely  social 
campaign ;  he  knew  only  too  well  that  he  himself,  in  spite  of 
his  rank  and  wealth,  could  never  gain  access  to  the  houses 
whose  doors  he  wished  to  open  for  his  son.  Even  though 
no  one  dared  to  raise  any  accusation  against  him,  he  was  yet 
in  a  way  a  detrimental,  an  eccentric,  whose  antecedents  would 
not  bear  too  close  examination. 

It  was  at  this  juncture  that  he  heard,  through  his  tenant 
and  man  of  business,  Mandelberg,  that  Prince  Rilinski  was 
considering  a  proposal  put  forth  by  the  former  concerning 
the  investment  of  certain  capital  in  a  building  enterprise  at 
Peressip.  General  Karatayef  found  no  difficulty  in  obtaining 
from  Mandelberg  the  fullest  information  as  to  the  Prince's 
social  and  financial  position.  A  meeting  was  arranged,  and 
at  the  conclusion  of  their  conversation  the  Prince  had  politely 
requested  permission  to  pay  his  respects  to  the  General's 
wife.  A  week  later  Anna  Dimitrievna  left  a  card  on  Princess 
Rilinski.  In  a  short  time  General  Karatayef  had  proved 
himself  so  valuable  an  adviser,  and  rendered  such  assistance 
to  the  Prince  in  business  matters,  that  the  latter  was  quite 
charmed,  and  asked  his  wife  to  show  the  queer  old  fellow 
and  his  family  such  little  kindness  as  occasion  might  permit. 

Connection  once  made,  the  two  families  came  steadily  into 
closer  contact  with  one  another.  The  General  discussed  ex- 
tensive business  operations  with  the  Prince  in  Mandelberg's 
office,  and  Nikolai  Nikolaievitch  Karatayef  became  a  close 
friend  of  Alexander  Sergeievitch  Rilinski.  The  young  Prin- 
cesses were  rarely  seen,  being  then  at  school  in  Kief.  The 
Princess  herself  had  too  little  in  common  with  Anna  Dimitri- 
evna to  permit  of  any  close  intimacy  between  the  two ;  more- 
over, the  latter  felt  that  she  would  be  out  of  place  in  such 
circles  as  the  Rilinskis,  and  was  more  than  satisfied  with 
seeing  her  son  admitted  there. 

General  Karatayef  toiled  forward  towards  a  new  goal. 
Never  had  his  needle  worked  so  busily  or  so  well  as  in  those 


THE  OLD  HOUSE  IN  THE  KONNAYA     67 

evenings  after  he  had  become  Prince  Sergei's  friend,  adviser, 
and  creditor. 

His  newest  objective  was  distant  and  difficult  of  access; 
the  more  need,  then,  to  carefully  order  his  preparations  for 
the  march.  General  Karatayef  intended  nothing  less  than  to 
obtain  supreme  power  over  Prince  Rilinski  and  all  his  house. 
This  great  noble,  with  all  his  appanage  of  wealth  and  influence, 
was  to  be  harnessed  to  the  car  of  Niki's  fortunes,  and  draw 
him  whither  he  would  go ;  and  after  the  boy's  first  summer  at 
Priluka  the  preceding  year,  when  the  young  princesses  had 
made  a  deep  impression  on  him,  General  Karateyef  was  more 
than  ever  determined  that  no  obstacle  from  that  quarter  in 
the  way  of  his  son's  career  should  prove  insurmountable. 
If  Niki  wished  to  marry  a  daughter  of  that  house,  then  marry 
her  he  should,  though  all  Priluka  rose  in  arms  against  him. 
It  was  necessary,  however,  to  have  such  weapons  himself  as 
should  be  capable  of  crushing  all  resistance.  The  day  might 
come  when  a  decisive  battle  would  be  inevitable;  he  would  see 
to  it  that  there  should  be  no  possibility  of  doubt  as  to  the  issue. 

Karatayef  would  have  been  happy  if  his  wife  could  have 
lived  to  see  this  final  triumph  of  their  hopes — a  triumph 
which,  he  felt  assured,  was  now  rapidly  approaching.  Another 
year,  and  Niki  would  have  passed  his  final  examination; 
together  with  Prince  Rilinski's  son,  he  would  receive  an  ap- 
pointment in  the  Russian  Foreign  Office,  as  an  introduction 
to  the  splendid  career  which  awaited  him.  Young  Alexander 
Rilinski's  circle  would  also  be  Nikolai  Karatayef's,  and  the 
latter  would  be  richer,  as  he  was  abler  and  stronger  than  his 
friend.  He  would  but  need  to  lift  a  little  finger  to  a  Princess 
Rilinski ;  she  would  be  his  for  the  asking.  His  way  was  effec- 
tively cleared  of  all  obstruction;  he  could  stride  forward  a 
conqueror. 

It  was  rarely  that  General  Karatayef  made  any  error  in  his 
calculations,  and  never  had  he  shown  more  than  in  this  last 
intrigue  in  which  he  was  entangling  the  affairs  of  Prince 
Rilinski.  The  master  of  Priluka  was  in  the  toils ;  the  final 
meshes  had  that  very  day  been  drawn  close  about  him.  Man- 
delberg  had  understood. 

It  was  a  joyous  pattern  of  the  brightest  hues  that  grew  into 
being  that  night.  A  wanderer,  aged,  beneath  a  chafing  load, 


68  KATYA 

sighted  at  last  the  splendid  goal  of  his  desire :  behind  the  stulti- 
fying endless  march,  and  close  ahead  the  prize  and  long-sought 
rest. 

Far  into  the  night  the  old  man  sat  at  his  work.  The  crumb- 
ling glory  of  the  ancient,  lofty  rooms  closed  like  a  grave  about 
the  secret  of  his  life.  The  grey  dust  gathered  and  grew  thick 
above  the  hidden  memories  that  had  been  his  dead  wife's 
treasure.  All  that  was  past.  And  over  the  future  of  their 
son  gleamed  a  star  of  promise. 


CHAPTER  VI 

FATES  AND  FORTUNES 

THE  great  road  that  runs  from  Kursk  by  way  of  Tshernigof 
to  Warsaw — one  of  the  ancient  Polish  military  roads  crossing 
the  Dniepr  and  its  tributaries — ran  close  by  Priluka.  It 
was  a  mighty  way,  broad  enough  to  take  a  dozen  hay -waggons 
abreast.  In  places  it  resembled  a  waste  field  rather  than  a 
road.  Grass  grew  in  the  middle,  and  at  times  it  was  advisable 
to  keep  to  this  central  part,  the  more  used  sides  being  full  of 
treacherous  holes,  or  kneaded  into  bogs  extending  to  the  nearest 
ditch.  Like  most  Russian  roads,  it  was  left  to  look  after  itself. 
A  heavy  rainfall  left  great  lakes  between  the  hills,  where 
travellers  driving  through  were  fain  to  choose  between  standing 
upon  the  seats  of  their  conveyance  or  sitting  knee-deep  in 
water.  A  few  weeks'  sun  meant  hauling  axle-deep  in  loose, 
dry  sand,  which  left  the  horses  breathless  and  sweating  at  the 
end  of  half  an  hour.  Parts  of  the  road  were  flat  and  bare, 
vaguely  bounded  by  the  faint  lines  of  the  overgrown  ditches 
on  either  side  ;  in  others,  as  at  Priluka,  its  sides  were  shadowed 
by  great  old  oaks  and  birches,  while  the  centre  was  overgrown 
with  grass  and  field  flowers.  It  was  the  loveliest  road,  save 
to  drive  on.  Even  Mikailo's  art  at  times  would  not  suffice  to 
cope  with  its  vagaries.  Local  landowners  drove  after  dark  with 
outriders  bearing  torches  ahead  to  find  the  most  passable 
portions  of  the  way.  For  hundreds  and  hundreds  of  versts 
it  ran  through  rich  and  fruitful  land,  connecting  flourishing 
villages  and  great  commercial  centres.  No  one  of  all  who  used 
it  ever  dreamed  that  it  might  be  otherwise  than  as  it  was. 


FATES  AND  FORTUNES  69 

One  afternoon  towards  the  end  of  August  Katya  stood 
carefully  instructing  Mikailo  to  gather  together  as  many  as 
might  be  of  the  best  singers  on  the  estate  to  a  vocal  perform- 
ance down  by  the  lake  as  soon  as  the  family  had  finished 
dinner.  The  programme  was  to  consist  of  old  Cossack  songs, 
both  gay  and  plaintive.  Mikailo  was  the  acknowledged  local 
leader  in  matters  of  song,  both  by  virtue  of  his  voice  and  on 
account  of  his  inexhaustible  stock  of  native  melodies.  Katya 
bade  him  mark  that  the  singers  were  on  no  account  to 
approach  beyond  the  landing-stage — at  that  distance  the 
music  would  be  heard  at  its  best  from  the  veranda,  whither 
she  intended  to  invite  the  whole  party  as  soon  as  the  meal 
should  be  over. 

While  the  two  stood  talking,  Ivan  came  running  up  to 
announce  that  a  flock  of  gipsies  were  pitching  camp  on  the 
road  just  outside  the  park.  Having  delivered  himself  of  the 
news,  he  hastened  on  to  tell  the  steward,  in  order  that  instruc- 
tions might  be  given  for  the  precautions  customary  on  such 
occasions — the  locking  of  gates  and  doors,  the  placing  of 
guards  over  poultry-runs,  stables,  and  barns.  Tatiana  Feo- 
dorovna  must  also  be  advised  of  the  event.  Dimitri  would 
have  to  keep  watch  at  the  main  entrance,  and  men  would  be 
sent  out  to  look  to  such  of  the  horses  and  stock  as  were  not 
within  doors.  .  .  .  There  was  plenty  of  time  before  dinner. 
Katya  determined  to  pay  a  visit  to  the  gipsies'  camp. 

And  there  was  indeed  nothing  she  could  do  at  the  moment 
in  company  with  any  of  the  others.  Sasha  never  left  Elisa- 
veta  Miliukin's  side,  there  was  no  longer  any  need  to  find 
pretexts  for  bringing  them  together  ;  wherever  his  own  resource 
or  courage  failed,  Elisaveta  herself  came  to  his  assistance. 
And  she  managed  it  so  nicely,  too.  Katya  was  by  no  means 
sure  that  Elisaveta  was  really  a  bit  more  clever,  for  instance, 
than  Elena  Dolgoruki.  But  her  manner  !  She  was  never 
embarrassed,  never  at  a  loss;  knew,  to  the  nicest  shade  of 
tone,  how  to  say  the  right  thing  at  the  right  moment.  Her 
self-possession  was  a  constant  marvel  to  Katya,  who  was 
always  flying  from  one  thing  and  springing  to  another.  It 
was  easy  enough  to  make  fun  of  Elisaveta  and  call  her  "  the 
statue,"  but  there  was  something  about  her  which  the  other 
lacked — a  something  only  to  be  acquired  by  wide  experience 
and  extensive  knowledge  of  the  world ;  a  something  by  no 


7o  KATYA 

means  to  be  despised,  even  if  one  had  lived  in  Odessa  and 
been  to  school  at  Kief. 

It  was  quite  in  keeping  with  Elena's  character  to  blush  at 
the  mere  sight  of  Shipagin.  The  little  stupid  was  completely 
blind  to  the  fact  that  Vladimir  Alexandrovitch  was  already 
beginning  to  weary  of  her  society  solely  on  account  of 
the  mental  exertion  which  even  the  idlest  flirtation  in- 
volved. 

"  Rather  tired,  y'know,  Elena  Ivanovna,"  drawled  Katya 
in  reminiscent  imitation.  This  constantly  recurring  speech 
of  Shipagin's  had  become  a  byword  among  his  companions 
— a  part  of  their  holiday  slang.  All  used  it  with  a  recklessness 
that  sooner  or  later  must  lead  to  discovery,  and  Katya  fore- 
saw a  tearful  crisis  when  the  matter  should  at  last  become 
plain  even  to  Elena.  Never  mind.  After  all,  the  child  was 
too  good  to  be  thrown  away  on  Vladimir  Shipagin. 

And  Niki,  too,  could  well  dispense  with  Katya's  aid.  She 
knew  exactly  what  had  happened  the  moment  she  had  left 
the  others  together.  Karatayef  had  swooped  down  on  Sonya, 
exerting  himself  to  the  utmost  to  make  her  forget  how  he  had 
scarcely  dared  to  look  at  her  as  long  as  Katya  had  been  there. 
Oh,  he  was  faithlessness  itself !  Katya  felt  she  was  growing 
to  hate  him  more  and  more.  And  yet  it  was  he  who  occupied 
her  thoughts.  For  he  was  not  to  be  won  as  she  would  win 
him;  to  be  held  in  subjection,  or  at  least  under  a  kind  of 
vague  suzerainty,  the  terms  of  which  she  alone  should  have 
power  to  dictate  and  revise  at  will.  She  did  not  know,  did 
not  even  think,  of  what  was  to  happen  afterwards,  if  she 
succeeded  in  recalling  him  to  allegiance,  and  making  him  once 
more  her  page,  as  Petya  Orloff .  The  triumph  of  victory  was 
all  she  cared  for;  she  saw  no  farther  ahead.  For  her,  as  yet, 
nothing  existed  beyond  the  conquest  itself. 

Karatayef  made  stubborn  resistance.  She  laid  traps  for 
him,  and  he  discovered  them  in  time.  She  tempted  him  by 
tokens  of  favour,  choosing  him  for  her  companion  in  the  most 
difficult  and  dangerous  of  their  holiday  plans;  he  strove  to 
avoid  her.  For  a  couple  of  days  she  left  him  severely  alone, 
apparently  unconscious  of  his  existence,  only  to  realize,  to 
her  intense  mortification,  that  he  seemed  to  thrive  on  her 
neglect.  And  whenever  she  attempted  to  actively  annoy 
him,  Sasha  immediately  came  to  the  rescue. 


FATES  AND  FORTUNES  7! 

Karatayef  was  stronger  than  she  had  thought — stronger 
than  she  had  imagined  men  could  be. 

One  thing,  however,  she  had  achieved:  she  had  made  him 
recognize  his  own  faithlessness.  She  could  mark  in  his  every 
tone  and  gesture  how  keenly  he  was  on  his  guard  in  her 
presence.  There  had  come  into  his  manner  something  new — 
an  air  of  watchful  self-control  and  hard-won  mastery,  which 
gave  him  a  certain  exasperating  attractiveness.  When  she 
forbore  to  harass  him,  his  eyes  seemed  to  thank  her  for  the 
respite.  And  he,  in  his  turn,  refrained  from  everything  that 
could  be  construed  as  a  challenge.  As  long  as  she  and  Sonya 
were  together,  he  was  most  careful  to  avoid  awaking  her 
suspicion;  but  no  sooner  was  she  out  of  the  way  than  he 
devoted  himself  to  Sonya,  disregarding  all  the  others.  At 
times  he  seemed  to  seek  a  refuge  by  her  side,  as  panting  men 
turn  from  the  battle  for  a  breathing  space  within  the  compact 
square. 

Katya  knew  it  all;  she  could  not  fail  to  see.  And  she  hated 
him. 

But  the  fight  was  not  yet  lost ;  she  was  not  so  easily  defeated 
in  the  struggle  for  a  thing  that  she  desired.  And  Priluka 
was  unendurable  with  the  others  making  love  all  hours  of 
the  day,  and  she  had  not  even  Petya.  .  .  . 

When  Katya  reached  the  road,  she  found  the  gipsies  busy 
about  their  camp.  The  tents — small,  dirty  bivouacs — were 
pitched  on  the  grass-grown  centre  of  the  road,  twigs  and 
branches  were  piled  together  to  serve  as  fuel,  and  the  waggons 
were  drawn  up  in  an  enclosing  circle.  The  band  numbered 
a  hundred  or  more.  There  were  children  everywhere,  the 
gleaming  bronze  of  their  bodies,  scantily  covered  with  rags, 
bleached  to  a  nondescript  uniform  colour  by  the  sun.  The 
women,  old  and  young,  wore  necklaces  of  coloured  beads  and 
rings  of  heavy  metal  on  finger,  wrist,  and  ankle.  The  men  were 
dressed  as  Russian  peasants,  in  gaudy  blouses  and  dark 
trousers  bagging  out  over  high  boots  of  greasy  leather ;  many 
wore  ear-rings,  and  false  stones  glittered  on  their  grimy  fingers. 
Men,  women,  and  children  shouted  and  swore  as  though  the 
whole  ragged,  dark-skinned  band  were  preparing  to  fly  at  one 
another's  throats.  Numerous  as  they  were,  however,  and 
prodigal  of  space,  they  made  but  a  small  island  in  the  broad 
bed  of  the  road. 


72  KATYA 

As  Katya  stood  drinking  in  the  noisy  bustle  of  the  camp,  she 
became  aware  that  from  the  park  and  from  the  fields  beyond 
young  girls  were  flitting  one  by  one  in  among  the  gipsies' 
tents.  They  moved  with  an  anxious,  stealthy  haste,  their 
kerchiefs  drawn  far  forward  over  their  faces,  and  disappeared 
behind  bivouacs  and  waggons,  only  to  emerge  a  few  moments 
later  and  hurry  back  with  all  speed. 

"  Banna  !  Little  lady,  Barina !"  Women  and  children 
were  crowding  clamorously  around  Katya  where  she  stood. 
"  Come  and  learn  your  fortune,  Barina  !  Come,  little  lamb, 
and  let  me  tell  of  the  pretty  fellow  that  is  waiting  for  you  ! 
Come,  little  lady,  and  hear  your  fortune,  like  the  others." 
Brown  hands  were  pulling  at  her  dress  in  all  directions. 

Suddenly  the  circle  broke  and  scattered,  with  screams  and 
much  abuse,  flying  before  a  man  in  a  green  blouse,  who 
flourished  a  whip,  entirely  careless  as  to  whom  he  struck. 

"  Out,  swine,  away  !  Scurvy  beasts  !"  . . .  The  newcomer's 
vocabulary  was  rich  and  effective.  "  Can't  you  see  the 
Barina  is  a  real  Barina  ?  Dare  to  come  near  the  little  Prin- 
cess— dogs,  devils  !" 

"  Excellency,"  he  went  on,  as  soon  as  the  field  was  clear, 
"  we  are  honest  folk — see,  here  is  our  passport  for  us  all.  It 
is  a  true  paper — see  the  Eagle  there ;  from  the  police  at  Kursk 
• — forty-seven  roubles,  Barina,  fairly  paid.  We  are  going  to 
Tshernigof  for  the  horse-fair  and  we've  no  fodder  for  our 
beasts;  they're  dying  already.  Look  only,  Barina,  your  own 
eyes  can  see  they  are  starving." 

"  Indeed  I  can  see  nothing  of  the  kind."  Katya  was  en- 
joying all  this  immensely. 

"  Can't  see,  Barina  ?  Ah,  the  horses,  fine  horses,  beautiful 
beasts — the  swiftest  horses  in  all  Ukraine,  Barina  !  And  I 
rode  that  chestnut  there  myself  the  other  day.  A  shower 
came  up  behind,  and  there  was  a  peasant's  hut  seven  versts 
ahead.  We  reached  it,  Barina.  What  did  we  care  for  the 
rain  behind.  No  drop  of  it  that  touched  us,  save  only  the 
chestnut's  tail  a  little.  And  now  you  can't  see  they're  starv- 
ing, Barina  ?" 

"  But  what  is  all  this  to  do  with  me  ?" 

"  I  want  fodder,  Barina.  I  will  pay  with  roubles;  not  false 
money ;  no,  true  roubles,  as  our  Little  Father  the  Tsar  uses 
himself.  But  the  cursed  pigs  of  peasants  there  won't  sell  to 


FATES  AND  FORTUNES  73 

us — won't  even  let  me  come  in  and  show  my  money.  And 
we're  honest  folk,  Barina,  with  papers,  real  papers  ..." 

"  This  is  Priluka.  My  father  is  the  Prince  Rilinski." 
Katya  was  not  quite  sure  to  whom  the  "  pigs  of  peasants  " 
was  intended  to  refer. 

"  I  knew  it — I  knew  it !  Didn't  I  tell  these  dogs  so  when 
they  crowded  round  you,  Princess !  And  His  Highness 
would  never  let  my  splendid  horses  stand  and  starve  before 
his  very  eyes  !  Go  in,  little  Princess,  and  tell  them  to  sell 
me  fodder;  but  cheap — very  cheap  !" 

"  I  can  get  you  what  you  want,  perhaps,  if  you  will  pay  for 
it.  But  you  must ..."  Katya  was  in  the  throes  of  a  nascent 
idea. 

"  Speak,  Princess,  speak,  little  lamb  !" 

"  Bring  me  the  best  and  cleverest  fortune-teller  in  the  camp." 

The  gipsy's  eyes  gleamed  craftily  as  he  turned  and  called 
to  one  by  name.  A  brown-skinned  woman,  with  thin  black 
wisps  of  hair,  and  beads  and  rings  innumerable,  came  limping 
up  to  Katya,  and  looked  her  over  with  cunning,  shifty  eyes. 

"  You  shall  have  fodder  at  a  reasonable  price,"  said  Katya 
firmly.  "  In  return,  I  wish  you  to  tell  the  fortunes  of  the 
party  whom  I  shall  bring  here  to  the  camp  this  evening. 
Tell  them  the  usual  stories  of  love  and  money  and  fortune 
and  so  on ;  but  when  you  see  me  place  myself  beside  a  young 
and  handsome  ..." 

She  broke  off.  A  smile  of  impertinent  understanding 
showed  on  the  faces  of  the  two  gipsies. 

"...  a  young  Barin,  tall  and  dark — then  you  will  tell  his 
fortune,  and  show  him  that  a  great  danger  is  threatening  him 
— say  it  in  your  own  words,  as  you  like — because  he  is  false 
to  himself  and  false  to  others.  You  must  say  more  than  that, 
of  course,  just  the  same  as  to  the  others,  only  on  no  account 
forget  the  words  I  said :  '  False  to  yourself  and  false  to  others.' 
You  understand  ?" 

"  Truly,  little  lady.  False  to  yourself  and  false  to  others." 
The  old  woman  thrust  forward  a  mendicant  palm. 

"  You  will  get  nothing  yet.  But  keep  your  word,  and  say 
as  I  have  said,  and  I  may  have  something  for  you  afterwards." 

"  Is  that  all,  Barina  ?  Is  there  nothing  more  you  would 
have  ?"  The  gipsy  chief  waved  a  generous  hand  as  though 
he  were  the  lord  of  unimagined  treasures. 


74  KATYA 

"  You  shall  have  your  fodder.  But  do  not  try  to  enter 
Priluka.  We  have  fierce  dogs  and  many  brave  men  on  guard. 
The  fodder  shall  be  sent  out  to  you  here." 

"  But  cheap,  Barina,  cheap.  We  have  but  a  few  kopeks  in 
all  the  world  .  .  ." 

Katya  was  already  out  of  hearing.  Hurrying  to  the 
steward,  she  wrought  upon  him  with  fair  words  until  he  con- 
sented to  accompany  her  to  Mikailo,  who  in  his  turn  was  bent 
to  serve  her  will.  Katya  had  done  her  part.  The  deal 
involved,  as  it  turned  out,  a  mighty  dispute  between  Ivan 
and  Mikailo  on  the  one  side,  and  all  the  hundred  gipsies  on 
the  other,  over  a  matter  of  some  twelve  or  fifteen  kopeks; 
but  by  that  time  Katya  was  standing  dressed  behind  her  chair 
at  the  dinner-table,  making  the  sign  of  the  cross  towards  the 
eikons  in  the  corner. 

The  party  at  dinner  that  evening  was  augmented  by  the 
person  of  Mandelberg,  the  advocate  from  Odessa,  who  had 
arrived  in  the  morning,  and  had  been  closeted  with  the  Prince 
all  day.  A  room  had  been  prepared  for  him;  there  was  no 
knowing  how  long  he  might  be  going  to  stay.  Prince  Sergei 
was  distrait  and  evidently  displeased;  the  Princess  looked 
anxious  and  tired.  Altogether  it  was  not  a  lively  table  to 
sit  down  to. 

"  Papa,  there  are  gipsies — a  great  camp — on  the  road  just 
outside." 

"  Again  ?  Really,  the  district  is  overrun  with  these 
creatures.  I  presume  the  necessary  precautions  have  been 
taken  ?" 

"  Are  they  real  gipsies — can  they  sing  ?"  asked  Elisaveta. 
Her  acquaintance  with  gipsies  was  in  the  main  restricted  to 
the  troupes  of  Tsigani  she  had  seen  in  the  fashionable  res- 
taurants of  St.  Petersburg  and  Moscow. 

"  Hardly  think  so,"  said  Sasha.  "  Stealing  is  more  in  their 
line." 

"  And  fortune-telling,"  added  Katya. 

"  Oh,  how  lovely  !"  exclaimed  Elena.  "  I  should  like  to 
see  them  !" 

"  We  might  go  out  and  have  a  look  after  dinner,"  suggested 
Katya,  "  though  to  tell  the  truth,  I'm  rather  tired,  Elena 
Ivanovna."  There  was  a  slight  drawl  perceptible  in  the  last 
words.  The  initiated  had  difficulty  in  restraining  their 


FATES  AND  FORTUNES  75 

mirth.  Shipagin  pricked  up  his  ears,  but  Elena  did  not 
seem  to  have  noticed  anything. 

"  Are  you  tired,  dear  ?  You  don't  look  it  a  bit.  And  you 
must  go  out  there  with  me  after;  I  daren't  go  alone." 

"  Let's  all  go,  shan't  we  ?  Papa  and  mama  too,  and 
M.  Mandelberg  of  course." 

The  man  of  business  felt  himself  addressed.  "  If  my 
presence  will  not  inconvenience  you,  mademoiselle,"  he 
observed  politely,  "  I  admit  that  I  should  be  delighted  to  see 
these — er  ..." 

"  Really,  M.  Mandelberg,  how  could  your  presence  possibly 
inconvenience  me  in  any  way  ?"  Elisaveta  Miliukin  was  not 
the  only  one  who  could  play  the  great  lady.  The  Princess 
glanced  a  little  anxiously  at  her  daughter.  Prince  Sergei  was 
inwardly  delighted — the  girl  was  a  true  Rilinski — the  blood 
of  her  race — his  race,  was  apparent. 

"  I  meant  —  er  —  I  should  say  —  er  —  I  have  not  the 
honour  .  .  ." 

"  Naturally."  Katya  was  implacable.  She  felt  instinctively 
that  the  visit  of  this  Jewish  agent  man  was  in  some  way 
responsible  for  her  father's  ill -temper  and  her  mother's 
anxiety,  and  she  was  not  inclined  to  conciliate  the  enemy. 
"  But  I  am  sure  my  father  will  not  object — eh,  papa  ?" 

"  Not  in  the  least,  my  child.  But,  for  my  own  part,  I  must 
beg  to  be  excused.  To  be  frank,  a  gipsy  encampment  has 
no  longer  the  charm  of  novelty  for  us  older  people.  What 
do  you  say,  my  dear  ?" 

The  Princess  also  preferred  to  remain  at  home.  "  But  it 
will  be  dark,  my  dears,  before  you  get  there.  I  do  hope  you 
will  be  careful.  One  never  knows  what  those  people  may  do." 

Advocate  Mandelberg  was  understood  to  ask  whether  they 
picked  pockets.  He  betrayed,  perhaps,  the  slightest  touch 
of  personal  anxiety,  but  it  was  quite  enough  for  Katya. 

"  Indeed  they  do  !"  she  returned  with  conviction.  "  Not 
papers,  perhaps — they  can't  read,  you  know.  But  watches, 
and  chains,  money,  rings — anything  bright,  genuine  or  not. 
So  you  had  better  look  to  your  family  jewels,  M.  Mandel- 
berg." 

It  was  meant  as  a  jest,  with  a  spice  of  malice,  and  as  such 
the  young  people  received  it.  But  Mandelberg  grew  pale, 
while  the  Prince  flushed,  and  could  not  conceal  a  certain 


;6  KATYA 

nervousness.  The  whole  party  was  suddenly  aware  that 
Katya's  words  had  made  a  painful  impression. 

"  But  can  they  really  teh1  fortunes  ?"  Elisaveta  Miliukin 
came  to  the  rescue  with  her  infallible  tact. 

"  All  nonsense  !"  asserted  Sasha.  "  They  prophesy  splen- 
did marriages  and  lots  of  money,  live  happily  ever  after, 
and  all  that.  Their  fortunes  are  always  the  same,  only 
better  or  worse,  according  to  what  they  expect  to  get  for 
them." 

"  I'm  not  so  sure  of  that,"  said  Katya.  "  A  lot  of  our 
people  here  will  tell  you  that  the  gipsies'  prophecies  have 
come  true,  and  they  can  read  anyone's  character  in  the  lines 
of  their  hand-palmistry,  you  know,  as  if  they  had  known 
them  for  years." 

"  Katya,  I'm  half  afraid  to  go,  after  all,"  whispered  Elena. 
"  I  don't  think  I  dare." 

"  Yes,  it's  wonderful  how  people  cling  to  silly  supersti- 
tions," went  on  Sasha.  "  Niki  and  I  know  a  lady  in  Moscow 
who  never  does  anything  of  the  least  importance  without 
consulting  cards  and  fortune-tellers." 

And  for  the  rest  of  the  meal  nothing  was  spoken  of  but 
fortune-telling  and  superstition. 

When  Katya  shortly  after  led  her  party  out  to  the  gipsy 
encampment,  Advocate  Mandelberg  had  already  taken  an 
opportunity  of  slipping  away  to  his  room  and  there  divesting 
himself  of  watch,  ring,  and  purse — one  could  not  be  too 
careful — retaining  only  some  small  change  in  one  pocket. 
Relieved  of  his  valuables,  he  set  off  with  the  gaily  chattering 
party,  taking  care,  however,  to  keep  at  a  respectful  distance 
from  Katya.  There  was  something  about  that  young  lady 
which  inspired  him  with  more  respect  than  he  felt  for  anyone 
else  at  Priluka. 

Night  had  fallen,  and  the  full  moon  came  sailing  up  over 
a  blue-black  sky  all  sown  and  spread  with  stars.  No  wind 
was  stirring.  The  trellised  branches,  with  their  lace  of  leaves, 
hung  void  of  motion  in  the  velvet  dark,  and  every  slightest 
sound  of  voice  or  footstep  seemed  strangely  sharp  and  clear 
against  the  surrounding  silence.  The  dew  was  falling;  glow- 
warms  lit  and  lost  their  tiny  light  among  the  wetly  gleaming 
grass. 

The  party  from  Priluka  moved  down  towards  the  entrance 


FATES  AND  FORTUNES  77 

to  the  drive.  A  stir  of  voices  came  to  them  ere  they  reached 
it,  and  the  glow  of  fires  flung  up  among  the  trees.  Beyond 
the  gate  lay  the  broad  road:  white  stretches  of  sand,  and 
dark  patches  of  grass,  flecked  with  redly  lucent  points, 
between  which  dark  figures  came  and  went.  The  smoke 
stood  high  in  thin,  straight  columns,  tinged  golden  at  the 
base  and  fading  upwards,  to  blossom  out  again  in  silver  of 
the  moon.  Beside  the  tents  stood  horses  here  and  there, 
dark  silhouettes  against  the  vaguer  dark,  motionless,  silent 
in  the  moving  noisy  throng ;  the  waving  flames  flung  now 
and  then  a  light  upon  their  eyes  that  gleamed  obediently 
again,  as  did  the  polished  beads  and  metal  rings  worn  by  the 
brown,  half -naked  women  and  children. 

"  Splendid  !"  exclaimed  Niki  Karatayef.  "  I  wouldn't  have 
missed  this  for  anything  !" 

A  little  gipsy  girl  came  up  to  them,  and  without  a  word, 
caught  hold  of  Katya's  dress  and  led  her  through  the  maze 
of  tents  and  horses,  fires,  and  moving  men,  the  others  following. 

Suddenly  the  child  disappeared.  Katya  became  aware  of 
an  old  woman  sitting  at  the  entrance  of  a  tent,  staring  into 
the  fire  before  her,  as  though  lost  in  meditation,  and  unaware 
of  the  presence  of  observing  strangers. 

"  Delightful  old  thing  !"  said  Katya  in  French.  "  What 
a  picture  ! — Can  you  tell  fortunes,  little  mother  ?"  she  went 
on  in  Russian. 

The  old  hag  raised  her  head  slowly,  as  one  awaking  from 
a  trance,  brushed  her  draggled  hair  back  from  her  brow,  and 
looked  earnestly  at  Katya  before  speaking. 

"  Who  art  thou,  little  one  ?"  she  said  at  last,  "  that  darest 
to  question  Fate  ?" 

"  This  is  quite  theatrical,"  thought  Katya. 

Behind  her  Elisaveta  was  murmuring  quiet  wonder  in 
French ;  Elena  opined  in  English  that  it  was  awfully  interesting, 
while  Sasha  laughed  profanely. 

"  Give  me  your  hand,  and  let  me  see  if  I  dare  tell  you  what 
I  read  there." 

"  I  won't  be  the  first,"  said  Katya,  turning  round  in  search 
of  a  sacrifice.  "  Who  will  ?  Vladimir  Alexandrovitch,  you 
begin." 

Shipagin  moved  forward,  and  Katya  slipped  behind  the 
others. 


78  KATYA 

"  As  long  as  the  old  pig  doesn't  paw  me  about,  I  don't  care." 

Shipagin  spoke  in  insolent  Russian,  and  the  gipsy  sent  him 
a  malignant  glance. 

"  I  see,"  she  began  aloud,  bending  over  the  outstretched 
hand,  "  riches  from  birth,  and  dark  shadows  on  the  gold.  The 
heart-line  weak,  and  soon  lost  altogether.  There  is  a  marriage, 
but  it  comes  late,  and  is  no*  happy.  Pride,  pride,  and  an 
unruly  tongue  that  will  bring  troubles  even  in  youth." 

"  Humbug,  old  witch  !"  said  Shipagin  angrily,  withdrawing 
his  hand.  No  one  laughed ;  all  felt  that  there  was  something 
strange  about  it,  after  all. 

The  old  woman  stirred  the  fire,  and  seemed  again  to  become 
unconscious  of  her  surroundings. 

"  Who  next  ?"  said  Katya,  with  somewhat  less  assurance. 

"  Not  me,"  declared  Elena.     "  I  dare  not." 

"  Let  me,  then,"  said  Sasha,  stretching  out  a  hand. 

"  I  see  a  good  and  comfortable  home,  but  wealth  comes 
later.  The  line  of  love  is  level  and  strong;  the  woman  you 
care  for  loves  you,  and  you  will  both  be  happy  in  a  far  land." 

"  What  did  I  say  ?"  jeered  Sasha.     "  The  old  story." 

Katya  came  forward  next,  offering  her  hand  boldly. 

"  I  see  ...  it  is  a  hand  I  have  seen  .  .  .  no,  that  was  a  man's. 
A  broad,  deep  line  of  love,  that  runs  from  early  youth  to  age. 
You  doubt  a  man's  affection  .  .  ." 

"I  ?"     Katya  shrugged  her  shoulders  contemptuously. 

"...  But  he  loves  you,  as  you  will  see,  if  you  are  faithful 
to  him.  He  brings  you  happiness,  and  wealth,  and  honour, 
but  not  until  you  have  passed  over  seven  rivers  and  through 
five  towns." 

"  Nothing  more  ?" 

"  Nothing." 

The  noise  about  the  camp  seemed  to  increase.  It  was  as 
if  men  were  quarrelling  in  several  places. 

Elena  Dolgoruki  was  impressed.  "  If  I  only  dared  !"  she 
whispered.  "  It's  quite  exciting.  Nikolai  Nikolaievitch, 
won't  you  ?" 

"  There's  nothing  to  be  afraid  of."  Karatayef  stepped 
forward  with  outstretched  hand.  Katya  moved  to  his  side. 

"I  see  wisdom  and  power,  that  will  lead  you  farther  than 
now  you  think.  The  heart-line  deep,  but  wavering.  Great 
happiness  awaits  you,  but  a  danger  threatens.  The  happi- 


FATES  AND  FORTUNES  79 

ness  is  stronger,  but  it  will  yet  be  destroyed  if  you  continue 
to  be  false  to  yourself  and  false  to  others." 

"  False  ?"     Karatayef  repeated  the  word  incredulously. 

"  False  to  yourself  and  false  to  others,"  said  the  old  woman 
again,  and  let  his  hand  fall. 

Karatayef  turned  to  Sasha  with  troubled  eyes.  "  False ! 
Sasha,  did  you  hear  ?"  His  voice  was  strangely  pained. 

"  Look  here,  Niki,  don't  you  be  a  fool.  We've  had  enough 
of  this  nonsense." 

Sonya  laid  a  light  hand  on  Karatayef's  sleeve,  and  spoke 
with  quiet  confidence : 

"Never  mind  about  that,  Nikolai  Nikolaievitch;  I  don't 
believe  a  word  of  it." 

Katya  wanted  Mandelberg  to  try,  but  the  latter  resolutely 
declined.  Elisaveta  Miliukin  did  not  care  about  it  either, 
and  Elena  could  not  make  up  her  mind. 

"  Come,"  said  Sasha,  "  let  us  go  back." 

But  Katya  stayed  behind  just  long  enough  to  let  one  rouble, 
and  another,  fall  into  the  gipsy's  lap. 

"  For  you  and  your  chief,"  she  said. 

The  girl  and  the  old  woman  exchanged  a  smile,  as  one 
conspirator  with  another. 

As  soon  as  the  party  had  re-entered  the  park,  Mandelberg 
excused  himself  on  the  ground  of  having  work  to  do.  The 
others  discussed  the  evening's  adventure ;  Elena  in  particular 
was  deeply  impressed. 

"  Sh  !"  explained  Karatayef  suddenly.     "  What's  that  ?" 

All  stopped  to  listen. 

"  Heavens  1"  said  Katya,  starting  up.  "  It's  Mikailo  and 
the  others.  I'd  forgotten  all  about  it !  Come  along,  out 
on  the  veranda;  hurry  !" 

The  Prince  and  Princess  were  deep  in  conversation  when 
the  young  people  arrived.  They  asked  a  few  perfunctory 
questions  as  to  the  visit  to  the  gipsies'  camp,  and  soon  all  were 
silent,  listening  to  the  singing,  each  in  his  own  individual  mood 
or  train  of  thought. 

The  moon  was  now  a  golden  disc  above  the  lake,  throwing 
a  broad  path  of  glimmering  light  across  the  dark  of  the  water. 
The  sloping  lawn  was  sown  with  intermittent  stars  of  glow- 
worms at  their  twinkling  play,  and  great  bats  flitted  silently 


8o  KATYA 

between  the  tree-tops  and  the  sky.  The  cool,  quiet  air  was 
scented  with  the  breath  of  stocks  and  heliotrope  in  the  beds 
below  the  terrace.  High  over  palace,  park,  and  lake  was 
spread  the  infinite  far  dark  of  the  star-pricked  August  night. 
Down  by  the  lake  the  singers  poured  their  fountain -stream 
of  song — a  richly  varied  flow  of  melody. 

"  Sword  and  saddle,  and  trumpet's  call — 
My  comrades  wait. 

Head  on  my  breast,  soft  arms  about  my  neck, 
Could  I  but  stay  ! 

Could  I  but  stay,  to  dance  once  more  with  thee 
By  Dniepr's  flood, 

Where  first  I  saw  thee,  one  of  many  maids, 
And  loveliest ; 

Red  beads  about  thy  neck  ;  red  beads  that  paled 
Beside  thy  lips, 

And  twenty  hues  of  silk  that  hid  and  sought 
In  the  silk  of  thy  hair  .  .  . 
Could  I  but  stay,  and  aid  thee  homeward  lead 
The  geese  at  eve, 

From  fields  where  golden  sunflowers  turn  their  heads 
To  watch  thee  go  ... 

Could  I  but  stay,  and  see  thee  make  once  more 
Sign  of  the  cross 

When  as  thou  prayest  to  the  holy  saints 
For  me  and  thee  .  .  . 

Could  I  but  stay  ...     Ah,  no  !  ...     Saddle  and  sword, 
And  trumpet's  call. 

Farewell,  farewell !    Thy  Cossack  leaves  thee,  love, 
That  fain  would  stay  ! ' ' 

The  song  changed   to  a  trembling  breath — a  shiver  as  of 
sentinel-leaves  that  mark  the  nearing  storm. 

"  Art  happy  with  her  ?     Can'st  with  her  forget 
Great  Dniepr's  flood  poured  strong  toward  the  sea  ? 
Or  hearest  thou  yet  its  sobbing  in  the  reeds  ? 

"  I  was  thy  chosen — and  I  waited  thee 
At  Morn,  when  golden  spires  first  caught  the  sun  ; 
At  Even,  when  the  poppies  closed  in  sleep  .  .  . 
I  stood  and  watched  for  thee  upon  the  slope 
That  rises  steeply  from  the  river  bed  : 
Early  and  late  I  watched,  to  ever  be 
The  first  to  greet  thee. 

"Ah,  I  see  thee  now  ! 
Low  thunder  of  swift  hoofs  upon  the  sand, 
And  then  thyself,  with  waving  lance  raised  high, 
And  wind-torn  cloak  outstreaming  far  behind.  .  .  . 


FATES  AND  FORTUNES  8l 

1 '  Can'st  thou  forget  thy  river,  or  hearest  thou  yet 
The  sound  of  Dniepr  sobbing  in  the  reeds  ? 

I  prayed  for  thee ;  I  brought  thy  mother  gifts 
When  thou  wast  absent  ;  by  thy  father's  side. 
I  knelt,  and  listened  to  his  praise  of  thee ; 
In  winter-time  I  plucked  sweet-smelling  twigs 
To  deck  the  manger  where  thy  steed  had  fed  ; 
In  summer  hung  thy  lance  with  little  wreaths. 
I  gave  thee  all  my  thoughts,  and  all  my  heart ; 
All  of  myself  that  lives  I  gave  to  thee — 
Can'st  thou  still  walk  with  her  beside  the  flood 
And  hear  sad  Dniepr  sobbing  in  the  reeds  ?" 

Nikolai  Karatayef  rose  quietly  from  his  seat  and  stole  off 
into  the  park.  Sasha's  hand  had  found  Elisaveta's  in 
the  dark.  Elena  Dolgoruki's  eyes  were  full  of  delicious 
tears. 

"  Ukraine,  songs  of  Ukraine,"  murmured  Prince  Sergei, 
and  sighed.  A  quiet  thankfulness  came  over  him  as  his  wife 
softly  stroked  his  hand. 

"  I  must  go  down  and  thank  Mikailo,"  said  Katya.  "  They 
musn't  stop  yet."  The  moonlight  showed  her  lithe,  elfin 
figure  flitting  whitely  down  the  lawn  towards  the  lake. 

On  a  seat  far  in  among  the  trees  sat  Niki  Karatayef  deep 
in  thought;  "  False !"  the  old  gipsy  had  said.  It  was  all 
very  well  for  Sasha  to  talk  of  humbug  and  nonsense:  Niki 
himself  found  it  but  too  true.  "  False  to  yourself  and  false 
to  others."  He  knew  now  that  it  was  Katya  whom  he  loved, 
now  that  he  had  forsaken  her  for  Sonya.  And  now  that  Sonya 
had  begun  to  imagine  he  had  chosen  her,  he  felt  each  day 
more  drawn  towards  her  sister. 

He  would  go  away.  It  was  impossible  to  stay  on  like  this 
at  Priluka;  he  was  full  of  shame  at  his  own  weakness.  His 
heart  was  bursting  with  longing  for  Katya — Katya,  whom  he 
himself  had  thrust  aside. 

The  moonlight  stole  in  upon  his  hiding-place,  flinging 
bright  silent  coins  of  light  upon  the  ground,  and  silvering 
now  a  leaf,  now  a  moss-grown  twig.  Down  by  the  lake  the 
song  poured  forth  again,  telling  of  pain  that  pays  all  love's 
delight. 

"  False  to  yourself,  and  false  to  others." 

He  buried  his  head  in  his  hands,  wishing  that  he  could  hide 
from  himself  and  all  that  he  cared  for, 

6 


82  KATYA 

Katya  went  through  the  park  looking  for  him.  She  found 
him  sitting  so,  with  covered  eyes.  Stealing  lightly  past,  she 
halted  a  little  way  beyond,  where  the  full  moonlight  showed 
her  clearly  visible.  Then,  standing  with  her  back  towards 
him,  she  broke  a  little  twig  sharply  across  her  knee. 

The  boy  looked  up. 

It  was  she — his  queen,  his  heart's  proud  mistress,  the  lithe 
and  delicate  creature  there  in  the  moonlight.  To  grasp  her 
now,  and  make  her  his.  .  .  .  There  rose  in  his  mind  a  picture 
of  Sonya,  as  he  had  seen  her  out  there  in  the  camp,  a  quiet 
and  gentle  thing  ...  he  heard  again  the  sobbing  plaint  of 
the  river  in  the  song.  .  .  .  Despairingly  he  stretched  out  his 
arms  toward  Katya,  as  though  imploring  aid. 

But  no  words  came. 

She  had  not  once  turned  his  way.  And  now,  with  a  little 
resolute  movement  of  the  head,  she  glided  off  along  the 
moonlit  path. 


CHAPTER  VII 

A  COSSACK   IN  PARIS 

IT  was  late  in  September;  all  was  quiet  now  at  Priluka. 
Sasha  and  Nikolai  Karatayef  had  returned  to  Moscow,  as 
Petya  Orloff  to  Odessa,  all  to  commence  the  hard  work  of 
that  last  year's  study  which  was  to  prove  decisive  for  their 
careers.  Katya  had  been  invited  to  accompany  Elisaveta 
Miliukin  to  Paris,  and  spend  the  winter  there.  She  was 
delighted  at  the  idea,  for  her  own  sake;  moreover,  as  she 
whispered  to  Sasha,  his  cause  would  then  have  an  advocate 
on  the  spot.  There  was  little  need  of  this,  however;  the 
matter  was  apparently  settled  already.  Sonya  was  to  stay 
with  Elena  Dolgoruki  at  the  latter's  home  in  St.  Petersburg 
until  Christmas,  possibly  longer.  Katya  did  not  envy  her 
sister  this  holiday,  which  did  not  promise  any  great  excite- 
ment. Elisaveta  said  the  same,  and  she  had  tried  it.  But 
it  would  be  a  good  thing  for  Elena  to  have  Sonya  with  her. 
The  poor  child  still  seemed  to  fancy  herself  in  duty  bound  to 
sorrow  for  Shipagin,  who  had  neglected  her  disgracefully 
towards  the  last,  and  had  left  without  saying  a  word.  Nor 
was  he  the  only  one. 


A  COSSACK  IN  PARIS  83 

The  Princess  was  to  remain  alone  at  Priluka,  at  any  rate, 
for  the  present.  Prince  Rilinski  had  important  matters  of 
business  to  attend  to  in  Odessa,  and  would  escort  the  young 
ladies  as  far  as  Kief.  It  was  extraordinary,  thought  Katya, 
how  papa  seemed  to  have  aged  of  late.  .  .  . 

The  party  made  a  stay  of  two  days  in  Kief.  Both  Katya 
and  Sonya  had  much  to  do  before  they  could  consider  them- 
selves in  any  way  equipped  for  their  respective  visits  to 
the  Dolgorukis  and  to  the  Embassy  in  Paris.  Fortunately, 
Count  Dolgoruki  came  in  person  to  fetch  his  daughter  and 
her  guest.  This  was,  at  least,  something  in  the  way  of 
society  for  Prince  Sergei,  though  Vera  Nadeshda's  husband 
could  scarcely  be  called  interesting.  Katya  found  nothing 
better  with  which  to  compare  him  than  a  piece  of  lacquer. 
She  counted  the  number  of  times  he  opened  his  mouth  to 
make  a  remark  at  dinner,  and  had  got  as  far  as  two  when 
they  rose  from  table. 

But  the  girls  had  no  time  to  waste  at  the  hotel  with  the 
Prince  and  the  Count.  Katya  had  a  list  of  at  least  thirty 
different  articles  which  she  must  have,  and  she  simply  loved 
shopping.  Moreover,  Elisaveta's  taste  was  marvellous.  And 
there  were  other  things  to  be  done.  Whatever  happened, 
Katya  was  determined  to  make  one  pilgrimage — if  the  others 
would  not  come,  she  would  go  alone  —  to  her  "  man  of 
dreams,"  an  old  friend  from  earlier  years  —  to  wit,  St. 
Vladimir,  with  his  lighted  cross.  Also  they  must,  now  that 
they  were  full-fledged  and  free,  visit  together  the  places 
where  they  as  schoolgirls  had  wandered  arm-in-arm.  As  it 
turned  out,  however,  the  three  others  were  quite  ready  to 
accompany  her  to  St.  Vladimir,  especially  as  the  weather  on 
the  last  day  of  their  stay  proved  fine  and  bright,  with  clear, 
clean  air  and  brilliant  sunshine.  On  the  way  they  called  at 
a  confectioner's  to  lay  in  a  supply  of  the  candied  fruits  for 
which  Kief  is  famous,  and  at  a  bookseller's,  where  the  for- 
bidden French  novels  of  their  school-days  were  now  attain- 
able without  difficulty. 

"  Katya,"  said  Elisaveta,  as  they  went  up  through  the 
gardens  beside  the  Dniepr  towards  the  statue,  "  can  you 
remember  when  your  father  used  to  come  on  his  visits  of 
inspection  ?  Honestly,  I've  never  been  so  afraid  of  anybody 
in  my  life  as  I  was  of  him.  And  when  I  came  out  to  you  at 


84  KATYA 

Priluka,  I  remember  thinking  as  we  drove  up  that  in  a  minute 
or  two  I  should  have  to  meet  Prince  Rilinski.  I  assure  you, 
I  felt  like  a  little  girl  again.  My  heart  was  going  like  any- 
thing !" 

"  Oh,  what  nonsense,  Elisaveta  !  You  always  used  to  come 
out  top  .  .  .  and  at  Priluka,  too,  you  managed  splendidly," 
added  Katya,  with  a  sly  smile. 

"  I  can  see  your  father  now,"  broke  in  Elena,  "when  he 
came  into  the  great  hall  with  his  shining  buttons  and  a  little 
sword,  and  ever  so  many  orders  on  his  breast.  He  looked  so 
splendid — so  different  altogether  from  the  old  priests,  and 
that  little  Frenchman,  Launay,  who  always  used  to  get  so 
excited.  And  you  did  tease  him,  Katya  !" 

"  And,  do  you  know,"  Elisaveta  continued,  "  I  used  to  envy 
you  and  Sonya,  for  you  can't  deny  that  whenever  your  father 
came  the  Prioress  always  took  care  only  to  ask  you  things 
you  knew.  I  remember  one  year  we  had  been  reading  Victor 
Hugo,  and  Katya  used  to  recite  '  Waterloo  '  till  Monsieur 
Launay  sat  with  tears  in  his  eyes,  and  we  all  believed  what 
you  said  about  going  on  the  stage;  and  then,  when  the  Prince 
came  and  talked  about  the  affectionate  interest  which  the 
Empress  took  in  our  studies,  and  how  we  ought  to  strive  by 
diligence,  etc.,  etc.  .  .  .  then  the  Prioress  got  up  and  called 
'  Ekaterina  Sergeievna,'  and  I  knew  she  was  going  to  ask  for 
'  Waterloo,'  and  she  did  !" 

'  Waterloo,  morne  plaine  comnie  une  onde,  ..."    began 
Katya,  and  they  all  laughed  together. 

It  was  a  delightful  ramble,  with  varied  threads  of  memory 
interwoven  with  the  girlish  confidences  of  which  they  had  so 
rich  a  fund  to  share  since  the  summer  at  Priluka.  Here,  in 
the  place  where  they  had  been  at  school  together,  amid  the 
recollections  of  childish  joys  and  sorrows  and  girlish  longing, 
they  felt  a  sense  of  freedom  and  expectation,  each  conscious 
that  the  others  shared  her  own  delight  at  the  emancipation 
from  dull  duties  and  irksome  restraint.  No  school-bell  now 
to  wake  them  from  their  dreams.  They  were  free — free  to 
dream  of  all  the  wondrous  things  life  had  in  store.  They 
hung  on  each  other's  arms,  their  hearts  beating  together, 
their  young  mirth  fresh  as  a  song  of  birds  in  early  sunlight. 

As  they  reached  the  top  of  the  hill  where  the  statue  stands, 
looking  out  over  the  river,  Katya  grew  quiet  and  thoughtful. 


A  COSSACK  IN  PARIS  85 

The  place  was  for  her  not  only  the  sum  and  monument  of  all 
the  ancient  memories  of  that  holy  city.  As  far  back  as  she 
could  remember  it  had  been  a  solemn,  almost  mystic,  symbol 
of  the  history  of  her  home,  her  race,  Ukraine,  Russia  itself 
.  .  .  the  strange  ineffable  atmosphere  that  breathes  through 
art  and  song,  and  lends  its  hue  to  all  reality. 

High  above  Kief,  "  Mother  of  all  Russian  cities,"  stands 
the  monument  of  the  famed  Boyar  who  took  a  Byzantine 
Emperor's  daughter  to  wife,  and,  adopting  her  faith,  baptized 
his  people  in  the  Dniepr's  flood.  The  saintly  Prince  looks 
towards  heaven,  his  left  hand  holds  the  crown,  and  in  his 
right  is  a  mighty  cross,  lit  up  at  evening  with  a  hundred  tiny 
lights,  that  men  may  see  from  far  and  wide  around.  Far 
below,  at  the  foot  of  the  steep  slope,  lies  the  river  in  its  bed 
of  white  sand.  The  ships  and  boats  that  ply  upon  its  waters 
seem  small  as  toys  from  the  height.  The  houses  on  the 
farther  bank  appear  as  dots  upon  the  far-spread  plain  that 
reaches  out  to  where  the  dim  horizon  joins  earth  to  sky. 
On  both  sides  of  the  cross-crowned  heights  and  far  around 
on  lesser  hills,  rise  towers  of  church  and  convent,  gleaming 
in  gold,  and  emerald,  and  sapphire.  Here  is  the  heart  of 
Little  Russia,  the  rich  and  beautiful  city  for  whose  sake 
thousands  upon  thousands  have  bled  and  died  on  the  fields 
of  Ukraine.  Time  after  time  fierce  hostile  hordes  have 
harried  here  and  plundered,  as  Dniepr  River  in  the  spate  of 
spring  spews  up  its  ice  against  the  fruitful  land.  Here,  native 
Princes  have  waged  internecine  war,  and  Tartar  bands  laid 
waste  the  countryside;  Cossacks  have  fought,  and  Polish 
armies  won,  until  at  last  great  Russia  took  the  spoil.  Here 
is  the  capital  of  Ukraine,  the  home  of  the  Cossacks,  and 
Mazeppa's  kingdom,  where  the  wild  and  boisterous  troopers 
guarded  the  frontiers  of  their  land,  now  for  a  Polish  King, 
now  for  a  Muscovite  Tsar,  but  always  under  their  own  flag, 
against  pagan  or  Christian,  as  the  need  might  be,  and  as  their 
Hetman  bade.  Here  they  have  danced  and  sung  on  Dniepr's 
banks,  and  prayed  to  Holy  Vladimir  to  have  them  in  his 
keeping. 

When  dusk  begins  to  fall  on  Kief  and  all  Ukraine,  the  Cross 
of  St.  Vladimir  is  lighted  up,  to  shine  far  out  across  the  land 
where  the  noble  Prince  of  Rurik's  race  led  his  people  to  the 


86  KATYA 

true  faith.  To  the  returning  wanderer  the  cross  smiles 
brightly  in  welcome,  and  he  who  leaves  his  land  turns  back 
to  send  a  last  reverent  greeting  to  the  holy  beacon,  and 
receive  a  blessing  he  may  carry  far. 

In  summer-time  great  swarms  of  insects  wing  through  the 
dark  towards  St.  Vladimir's  Cross,  and  many  a  moth  finds 
death  at  its  toot.  In  spring  and  autumn  birds  of  passage  are 
drawn  to  the  mysterious  light,  whereunder  not  a  few  may  lie 
with  broken  wing  at  break  of  day.  But  at  midnight  the  light 
is  extinguished,  and  only  the  high  stars  shine  over  the  holy 
city  and  the  Dniepr's  flood  that  wends  throughout  Ukraine 
towards  the  sea. 

The  girls  stayed  long  on  the  hill,  loth  to  leave ;  and  as  they 
turned  back  once  more  to  the  noise  and  bustle  of  the  town, 
Katya  felt  that,  in  spite  of  the  twenty-four  hours'  journey 
yet  before  her  ere  she  would  reach  the  frontier  of  Russia,  it 
was  here  that  she  had  said  her  real  farewell  to  her  home  and 
her  own  land. 

The  party  scattered  next  day  in  all  directions.  Prince 
Rilinski  was  going  south,  to  Odessa;  Count  Dolgoruki  took 
Elena  and  Sonya  northwards  to  St.  Petersburg;  Elisaveta  and 
Katya,  accompanied  by  the  former's  maid,  went  westward  to 
Warsaw,  where  they  were  to  be  joined  by  a  courier  of  the 
Embassy  returning  from  St.  Petersburg,  who  would  act  as 
escort  for  the  remainder  of  the  way — an  entirely  superfluous 
precaution,  thought  the  two  girls.  Elisaveta  had  made  the 
journey  many  times  before,  but  parents  were  always  so  eager 
to  "make  arrangements,"  and  never  seemed  to  remember 
the  difference  between  grown-up  young  ladies  and  school- 
girls from  Kief. 

One  rainy  day  early  in  October  Katya  drove  in  the  Am- 
bassador's carriage  from  the  Gare  du  Nord  to  the  Embassy, 
situated  in  the  quarter  near  the  Champs  Elysees.  For  seven 
months,  until  the  chestnuts  were  in  bloom,  she  remained  in 
Paris.  It  was  the  first  time  she  had  spent  Easter  outside 
Russia,  or  even  away  from  home. 

It  was  an  entirely  new  world  in  which  she  found  herself 
now.  Priluka  seemed  strangely  small  in  comparison.  Katya 
felt  quite  lost  at  first  in  the  great  gilded  halls,  with  their 


A  COSSACK  IN  PARIS  87 

wealth  of  silk,  not  a  single  corner  anywhere  to  remind  her  of 
old  familiar  things  at  home,  no  cosy  little  alcoves — all  was 
show  and  ostentation,  even  to  Madame  Miliukin's  boudoir, 
where  the  innumerable  cushions  and  the  eternal  perfume 
made  her  feel  ill.  The  place  was  full  of  Russian  things — 
carpets  and  bronzes,  carved  woodwork  and  enamel,  onyx  and 
malachite  and  lapis  lazuli,  weapons  from  the  Caucasus — none 
of  which,  however,  seemed  in  the  least  degree  at  home  in  the 
great  rooms,  furnished  and  decorated  in  the  styles  of  Louis  XV., 
Louis  XVI.,  and  Empire.  It  was  with  these  things  as  with 
the  Circassian  servants  who  stood  behind  the  Ambassador 
and  his  wife  at  meals.  The  two  giants  were  genuine  enough, 
and  their  costumes  complete  to  the  last  detail,  yet  to  Katya 
they  seemed  like  French  waiters  dressed  for  a  carnival. 
Often,  too,  she  felt  that  the  servants,  rather  than  the  masters, 
ruled  the  household.  There  was  in  particular  a  French  maitre 
d'hotel  named  Duparc  who  daily  incurred  her  displeasure. 
He  was  like  a  grandfather  who  detests  children,  and  he  had 
a  way  of  contriving  to  oppose  her  wishes  whenever  she  desired 
to  order  a  carriage,  send  a  message,  or  even  borrow  a  paper 
from  the  billiard -room.  At  Priluka  her  will  in  such  matters 
was  never  challenged;  here,  however,  it  seemed  a  recurrent 
decree  of  fate  that  M.  Duparc  should  interpose  with  his 
eternal  "  Je  regrette,  Princesse,  ..."  pointing  out  that 
there  was  no  carriage  available  at  the  moment,  that  it  would 
be  inconvenient  to  send  a  messenger  just  then,  or  that  the 
gentlemen  did  not  like  to  be  disturbed  at  their  game.  More- 
over, he  had  a  way  of  appraising  her  appearance  with  his 
eyes  whenever  she  put  on  a  new  dress  or  made  any  alteration 
in  coiffure,  and  it  was  at  all  times  evident  that  she  failed  to 
please  his  critical  eye.  "  One  of  these  days  I  shall  really 
wring  his  neck,"  she  confided  to  Elisaveta. 

There  were  always  guests,  both  at  lunch  and  dinner,  often 
even  when  neither  the  Ambassador  nor  his  wife  were  at  home, 
on  which  occasions  Elisaveta  was  deputed  to  act  as  hostess, 
with  one  of  the  Secretaires  in  attendance.  Life  was  an  un- 
interrupted course  of  festivities,  all  exactly  alike,  in  spite  of 
variant  titles.  Invitations  poured  in  from  everywhere,  and 
under  the  guidance  of  Elisaveta  Katya  learned  to  distinguish 
those  which  might  be  accepted.  She  seemed  to  be  always 
having  new  dresses,  not  to  speak  of  minor  articles  such  as 


88  KATYA 

shoes,  gloves,  etc.  The  amounts  thus  expended  impressed 
Katya  herself  as  well  as  her  mother,  who  wrote  begging  her 
to  be  more  careful  in  the  matter  of  bills.  It  was  quite  im- 
possible, however,  to  reduce  expenses.  Things  she  must 
have,  if  she  wished  to  appear  as  Elisaveta  and  the  others 
were  accustomed  to,  and  that  she  was  determined  to  do. 

Her  impression  of  Elisaveta's  father  was  almost  as  vague 
on  the  last  day  of  her  stay  as  it  had  been  on  the  first.  •  Vasili 
Pavlovitch  showed  her  such  attention  as  one  might  expect 
from  a  kindly  old  uncle  who  is  careful  to  remember  that  he 
is  talking  to  a  twelve-year-old  niece,  and  chooses  his  subject 
and  his  tone  accordingly.  During  the  seven  months  of  her 
stay  he  never  once  spoke  to  her  in  Russian,  although  he  was 
known  to  be  one  of  the  most  enthusiastic  adherents  of  the 
Panslavonic  and  Nationalist  party  in  the  service  of  Alex- 
ander III.  Russian  was,  indeed,  rarely  spoken  at  table,  out 
of  consideration  for  the  guests,  though  one  might  frequently 
hear  French,  English,  and  German  at  the  same  meal.  Kleo- 
patra  Gregorievna  Miliukin,  nee  Princess  Trubetskoi,  had 
received  her  education  at  a  period  when  the  Russian  aris- 
tocracy neglected  the  mother-tongue,  and  though  she  had  no 
objection  to  speaking  Russian,  she  was  herself  aware  that 
she  had  lost  her  natural  fluency  in  the  language  in  the  course 
of  her  many  years'  residence  abroad,  and  her  conversation 
with  the  two  young  girls  was  as  a  rule  conducted  in  French. 
She  was  a  handsome  woman  of  dignified  bearing,  and  had  not 
yet  owned  herself  defeated  in  the  struggle  against  advancing 
years.  Her  time  and  thoughts,  however,  were  incessantly 
occupied  with  social  and  representative  duties,  which  forbade 
her  the  slightest  approach  to  any  private  life  of  her  own. 
Her  whole  existence  was  embittered  by  this  outward  part 
which  she  was  ceaselessly  called  upon  to  play,  and  which 
had  prevented  her  from  ever  becoming  the  wife  and  mother 
she  had  dreamed  of. 

"  The  only  thing  I  have  to  say  against  your  brother  Alex- 
ander, my  dear,"  she  observed  one  day  to  Katya,  "  is  that 
he  has  chosen  the  corps  diplomatique,  I  hear  he  is  clever, 
and  works  hard ;  and,  thank  God  !  his  health  seems  to  be 
improving.  But  why  could  he  not  choose  a  sensible  career, 
as  your  father  did — something  which  would  save  him  from 
this  nomad  existence,  and  permit  of  his  being  a  real  husband 


A  COSSACK  IN  PARIS  89 

and  father,  with  a  real  home  ?  Katya,  my  dear,  you  have 
no  idea  how  weary  I  can  be  of  it  all  at  times.  When  you 
marry — and  that  day  will  come  soon,  if  I  can  trust  my  eyes 
— promise  me  not  to  take  a  diplomat,  not  only  for  his  sake, 
but  for  your  own.  It  is  a  ruin  of  a  woman's  life.  One 
becomes  a  slave  of  politics,  and  all  that  politics  involve;  one 
is  no  longer  a  human  being,  but  a  marionette,  with  the  State, 
Society,  and  other  impersonal  institutions  to  pull  the  strings. 
There  is  not  a  better  or  a  nobler  man  on  earth  than  Vasili 
Pavlovitch,  but  it  has  been  his  misfortune  and  my  own  that 
he  was  so  clever  and  capable.  Everybody  imagines  they 
have  a  right  to  him  at  all  times,  and  he  and  I  have  to  get 
on  as  well  as  we  can  with  what  is  left.  It  is  a  pity — a  pity 
for  us  both." 

On  another  occasion,  having  arranged  to  accompany  the 
two  girls  to  the  theatre,  only  to  find  at  the  last  moment  that 
her  presence  was  demanded  elsewhere,  she  complained  bitterly 
to  Katya: 

"  I  had  been  looking  forward  to  an  evening  together,  all  by 
ourselves,  and  then,  of  course,  a  Grand  Duke  arrives.  I  told 
my  husband  how  it  would  be  when  he  was  offered  Paris.  It 
is  the  worst  post  in  Europe — the  eternal  stopping-place  on 
the  way  to  the  Riviera.  And  these  semi-incognito  visits  are 
the  worst  of  all,  because  they  never  end.  An  official  recep- 
tion is  different.  One  knows  what  to  expect — two  or  three 
days  at  the  outside,  and  then  everyone  is  dead  tired  and  glad 
to  get  away.  But  as  soon  as  one  hears  "  incognito,"  "  no 
ceremonial  functions,"  then  one  knows  at  once  it  is  a  question 
of  weeks.  They  say  Rome  is  bad.  It  may  be  so  for  the 
others,  but  for  us  Russians  Paris  is  worst  of  all.  The  house 
is  a  caravanserai,  my  dear.  Oh,  I  wish  I  could  go  to  bed  for 
a  week,  only  it  wouldn't  be  fair  to  Vasili  Pavlovitch  !" 

At  first  Katya  could  not  help  thinking  that  Elisaveta  must 
have  found  Priluka  poor  and  dull  beside  all  that  she  was 
accustomed  to,  but  gradually  she  grew  to  understand  what  a 
Paradise  Priluka  must  seem  after  the  life  of  ceaseless  ceremony 
in  these  great  gilded  rooms.  And  Elisaveta  would  one  day 
be  mistress  of  Priluka.  ...  It  cut  her  to  the  heart  to  think 
that  a  time  would  come  when  the  home  in  Ukraine  would  be 
no  longer  hers,  when  she  would  be  but  a  guest  in  the  place 
which  for  her  was  the  loveliest  on  earth.  Katya  had  arrived 


90  KATYA 

in  Paris  full  of  resolutions.  She  would  not  allow  herself  to 
be  impressed  by  what  she  saw,  would  not  submit  to  be 
patronized,  would  not  give  way  to  any  childish  longing. 
She  was  nearly  eighteen  now.  Bjit  it  was  not  so  easy,  after 
all.  These  Grand  Dukes  that  were  continually  passing 
through  the  rooms  seemed  only  to  notice  her  existence  with 
a  careless,  "  Ah,  une  Princess  Rilinski — Sergeievna — oui,  oui, 
je  me  rappelle.  .  .  ."  These  distinguished  elderly  gentlemen 
of  all  nations,  from  Persians  and  Chinese  to  Spaniards, 
Italians,  and  Englishmen  ;  these  women  whose  dresses  and 
jewels  alone  were  worth  a  fortune,  and  who  talked  with 
careless,  familiar  ease  of  weighty  matters  that  for  Katya 
were  but  headlines  in  the  newspapers;  these  social  functions 
at  other  Embassies  and  Legations,  at  the  houses  of  Ministers, 
bankers,  or  the  nobility,  where  the  taste  and  splendour  of 
ancient  tradition  and  world-famed  culture  were  displayed 
.  .  .  what  use  to  deny,  even  to  herself,  that  it  impressed  her 
in  spite  of  resolutions,  made  her  seem  but  a  little  girl  after 
all  ?  She  was  also  forced  to  admit  that  horrid  old  Duparc, 
albeit  in  the  most  courteous  manner  in  the  world,  made  her 
feel  that  she  was  only  a  child,  and  could  not  have  her  own 
way.  Tatiana  or  Mikailo,  or  any  of  the  others  at  home, 
would  never  have  dared.  .  .  .  Everything  here  was  so  cold 
and  formal  and  hard,  and  she  did  feel  homesick,  it  was  no 
use  trying.  .  .  .  Often  she  cried  herself  to  sleep,  often  she 
wished  that  her  mother  could  come  and  stroke  her  cheek 
and  say:  "  Katya  dear,  don't  cry;  I've  come  to  take  you 
home." 

Everything  in  the  great  house  moved  as  by  clockwork, 
wheel  biting  on  wheel  exactly  at  the  time  and  place  appointed. 
Every  soul  in  the  establishment  had  a  definite  position  in  the 
scheme  of  things,  and  never  moved  a  hair's-breadth  beyond 
it.  All  was  ordered  and  set  with  the  single  object  of  social 
and  representative  ceremony  in  view.  It  was  not  a  home, 
but  a  kind  of  hotel,  placed  at  the  disposition  of  a  numerous 
but  select  party,  who  took  possession  of  the  place  from  one 
o'clock  lunch  till  far  into  the  night.  In  this  Russian  house 
everything  was  different  from  her  home  in  Russia.  Katya 
was  a  unit  among  many,  a  guest  who  was  free  to  live  her  own 
life  as  long  as  she  kept  her  place  in  the  ordered  scale,  and  did 
not  disturb  the  established  scheme  of  things.  No  one  in  the 


A  COSSACK  IN  PARIS  91 

house  had  ever  time  to  occupy  themselves  with  her  in  any 
other  way.  She  was  placed  on  exactly  the  same  footing  as 
the  daughter  of  the  house,  and  had  no  reason  to  complain. 

Her  instinct  and  education,  all  that  Elisaveta  Miliukin 
half-admiringly,  half-warningly  called  "  her  Cossack  nature," 
rebelled  against  the  stern  discipline  and  strictly  regulated 
duties  of  the  Embassy.  Work  and  worry  were  by  no  means 
relegated  to  the  chancellery;  the  duties  of  the  drawing-room 
were  not  less  manifold,  and  demanded  fully  as  much  of  regu- 
larity and  order.  The  two  departments  were  inseparable  as 
two  sides  of  a  coin.  Either  would  have  been  valueless  with- 
out the  other,  and  in  neither  was  there  room  for  anything 
but  the  daily  tasks.  Katya  soon  perceived  the  connection 
between  them,  realized  also  vaguely  that  beneath  it  all  lay 
something  great,  something  of  deep  earnest  and  importance. 
But  she  could  not  altogether  grasp  it.  She  lacked  the  neces- 
sary interest  and  observation;  she  found  it  difficult  to  con- 
centrate her  attention  on  any  subject  which  did  not  concern 
herself  personally,  and  she  had  a  horror  of  abstract  questions 
which  she  did  not  understand.  Nor  did  anyone  attempt  to 
instruct  her.  The  Ambassador  himself  never  seemed  to 
imagine  that  it  was  possible  to  speak  to  her  of  anything 
beyond  what  he  considered  ordinary  girlish  interests ;  and  his 
wife  gave  Katya  the  sum  of  her  experience  in  one  trenchant 
sentence:  "  Amuse  yourself,  my  dear,  as  long  as  you  find  all 
this  amusing.  You  will  very  soon  see  that  a  galley-slave  is 
not  much  worse  off." 

There  was  plenty  of  young  society,  of  a  sort — men  from 
the  other  Embassies  and  Legations,  from  the  Foreign  Ministry 
and  from  the  Faubourg  St.  Germain,  and,  of  course,  Russians 
from  the  Embassy  itself  or  the  Consulate,  as  well  as  the 
retinues  of  the  various  Grand  Dukes,  besides  occasional 
travellers  of  distinction.  Katya  had  no  lack  of  attention — 
"  La  petite  Rilinski,"  "  Cette  charmante  petite  Princesse," 
was  everywhere  admired.  At  a  dinner  one  day  a  young 
Grand  Duke  had  said,  quite  loudly  enough  for  Katya  to  hear : 
"  But  she  is  charming,  your  little  Rilinski."  This  was  the 
most  bitterly  humiliating  of  all — to  be  "la  petite  Rilinski," 
a  child  whom  the  elders  played  with  as  long  as  they  had 
nothing  better  to  do,  a  pretty  little  girl  among  a  hundred 
others,  a  bright  and  graceful  creature  to  delight  the  eye,  like 


92  KATYA 

a  bird  in  an  aviary  full  of  birds  invited  to  eat  sugar  and  peck 
seed  from  careless  hands.  She  held  quite  a  respectable 
position  in  the  order  of  precedence,  but  she  was  by  no  means 
first.  It  was  not  she  who  was  leader,  and  whom  all  the 
young  men  were  eagerly  competing  to  please  and  obey. 
The  Russian  Secretary  and  Attaches  were  willing  enough  to 
while  away  the  time  with  her,  but  even  though  it  was  an 
open  secret  that  her  brother  was  already  chosen  as  son-in- 
law  of  the  house,  it  was  naturally  the  daughter  of  their  chief, 
Elisaveta  Vasilievna,  who  received  the  principal  share  of  their 
attention.  And  as  for  the  others,  Frenchmen  and  men  of  all 
other  nationalities,  who  passed  in  ceaseless  procession  through 
the  house,  they  had  no  time  to  pay  her  undivided  homage, 
nor  could  she  herself  make  conquest  of  them  all  en  masse. 
In  such  matters  she  preferred  to  go  more  quietly  to  work 
than  her  manner  at  other  times  might  have  led  one  to  suppose. 

Katya  was  undoubtedly  a  social  success.  The  papers  also 
referred  to  her  in  their  reports  of  balls  and  soirees  as  "La 
charmante  Princesse  Katharine  Rilinski."  But  she  was 
obliged  to  confess  to  herself  that  she  had  not  attained  the 
success  of  which  she  had  dreamed.  She  had  not  laid  Paris 
at  her  feet;  she  was  not  mistress  anywhere,  not  even  at  the 
Embassy  of  her  own  country.  Duparc  and  his  system  were 
not  to  be  subjugated  by  a  little  Cossack  girl. 

She  had  made  one  conquest,  however — the  only  one  of  such 
sort  as  she  cared  about.  A  young  Attache^  at  the  British 
Embassy,  George  Farringham,  pursued  her  with  a  silent 
worship,  and  was  in  everything  her  slave.  Wherever  she  was 
present  he  had  eyes  for  no  one  else,  and  was  ready — nay, 
delighted — to  obey  her  least  inclination.  There  was  about 
him  something  which  reminded  her  at  once  of  Petya  Orloff 
and  Niki  Karatayef.  He  had  Petya's  chivalrous  admiration, 
with  Niki's  earnest  strength.  But  he  was  more  polished  than 
either — a  man  of  the  world,  in  spite  of  his  youth  and  his  frank 
sincerity.  She  knew  nothing  of  him  save  that  he  was  the 
son  of  a  clergyman,  and  belonged  to  the  younger  branch  of 
an  ancient  family.  She  favoured  him  openly  beyond  other 
young  men  more  distinguished  both  as  to  birth  and  position ; 
she  had  even  promised  to  obtain  him  an  invitation  to  Priluka, 
the  highest  proof  of  confidence  and  friendship  which  she 
could  confer.  Shortly  before  her  departure  he  wrote  and 


A  COSSACK  IN  PARIS  93 

asked  her  to  marry  him — a  beautiful  letter,  which  she  kept. 
But  this  was  not  in  the  least  what  she  had  bargained  for. 
How  stupid  men  were  always  !  As  if  she  could  ever  dream 
of  binding  herself  here,  in  these  surroundings,  far  from  her 
home  in  Ukraine,  and  to  a  man  of  another  race  !  .  .  .  Never. 

Petya  Orloff  received  a  couple  of  brief,  hasty  notes  from 
Paris.  The  first  began  by  telling  him  of  herself — that  she 
had  put  up  her  hair,  and  that  Elisaveta  thought  it  suited  her 
splendidly.  "  And  I  wonder  what  my  Petya  will  say."  And 
of  him  she  wrote  that  she  hoped  he  was  still  working  hard, 
for  it  would  never  do  for  him  to  fail  at  the  examination, 
especially  as  Sasha  and  Karatayef  were  sure  of  passing  theirs. 
"Row,  Petya — row  hard  !"  she  added,  smiling  to  herself  as 
she  wrote.  But  there  she  stopped. 

The  second  letter  was  little  more  than  a  notification  of  the 
fact  that  her  stay  in  Paris  was  now  nearly  at  an  end.  "  And 
I  look  forward  to  seeing  you  at  Priluka,  Sir  Lieutenant  ! 
Your  old  friend,  Katya  Rilinski." 

Elisaveta  received  many  letters  from  Sasha,  and  wrote  as 
often  in  reply.  Everything  went  on  perfectly  between  them. 
Of  Karatayei  not  a  word.  Priluka  seemed  very  far  away. 

Katya  had  now  seen  Paris — or,  at  least,  what  many  would 
consider  as  the  finest  and  most  desirable  part  in  the  life  of 
that  city.  She  had  been  to  museums  and  picture-galleries,  to 
theatres  and  lectures,  and  even  to  a  reception  of  the  Academy. 
She  had  been  the  guest  of  President  Grlvy,  as  well  as  French 
Ministers,  Dukes,  and  financiers;  had  dined  at  the  Embassies 
and  Legations  of  a  dozen  different  countries.  She  had  been 
introduced  to  Grand  Dukes  and  Princes  of  the  blood;  many 
men  bearing  great  names  had  paid  her  considerable  attention. 
In  spite  of  it  all  she  felt  herself  a  stranger  to  the  last.  It  had 
been  amusing  enough,  and  she  had  learned  a  good  deal.  But 
there  was  only  one  man  who  in  the  least  degree  had  reminded 
her  of  her  home,  and  he,  strangely  enough,  no  Russian,  but 
young  Farringham,  with  the  fine  eyes  and  the  deep,  earnest 
voice. 

People  were  so  unkind  in  Paris.  Katya  knew  from  her 
own  country  how  eagerly  the  world  busies  itself  with  the 
most  intimate  private  life  of  men,  and  more  especially  of 
women.  But  in  Russia  all  were  ever  ready  to  forgive,  to 
sympathize,  to  lend  a  kindly  hand  to  those  in  trouble,  even 


94  KATYA 

to  thieves  and  murderers  on  their  way  to  Siberia;  while  here 
in  Paris,  in  those  circles  which  by  birth,  and  wealth,  and 
culture  were  accounted  the  highest,  scandal  was  as  rife  as  in 
any  petty  provincial  town  in  Russia.  People's  eyes  shone 
with  delight  whenever  they  could  retail  something  seriously 
compromising  about  anyone  else.  Everyone  was  so  strict 
and  correct  in  everything — not  a  pin  was  allowed  to  get  out 
of  place — but  as  for  heart,  truly,  if  these  people  had  any, 
they  hid  it  well.  They  would  never  understand  Priluka  or 
Ukraine.  Farringham,  perhaps,  but  of  the  others  none. 

When  at  last  the  chestnuts  were  in  bloom,  and  Katya's 
stay  was  at  an  end,  her  whole  soul  rejoiced  at  the  thought  of 
seeing  her  home  again.  A  courier  on  the  way  to  St.  Peters- 
burg was  directed  to  travel  by  way  of  Kief  in  order  to  escort 
her  so  far.  From  there  she  could  look  after  herself,  if  no 
one  came  from  Priluka  to  fetch  her. 

There  was  no  one,  to  Katya's  great  relief.  She  had  a  whole 
evening  to  herself,  and  all  alone  "  la  petite  Rilinski  "  made 
her  way  hastily  up  the  hill,  where  in  spring  and  autumn  the 
lighted  Cross  of  St.  Vladimir  draws  birds  of  passage  from 
their  way  across  the  Plains  of  Ukraine. 

Katya  felt  she  was  home  at  last. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

THE   GENERAL   AT  HIS  WORK 

GENERAL  KARATAYEF  sat  at  his  work. 

It  was  the  last  evening  before  his  son's  return,  and  he  must 
get  it  finished — the  picture  of  a  white  palace,  with  its  rose- 
garden,  and  the  fairy  Prince  stepping  ashore  from  his  boat  to 
find  the  place  all  bravely  decked  against  his  home-coming. 
There  were  roses,  and  golden  flecks  upon  a  sea  of  blue.  The 
handsome  youth  trod  lightly  amid  the  flowers  of  the  bank, 
and  stretched  his  arms  towards  the  palace,  where  each  white 
pillar  was  wreathed  and  garlanded  with  leaves. 

But  the  palace  itself  was  not  yet  finished.  One  wing  was 
yet  to  be  added,  with  high  windows  and  ivy  climbing  up  the 
wall.  The  needle  plied  busily  in  and  out;  eagerly,  lovingly 
the  old  man  chose  his  colours,  drawing  long  glittering  threads 


THE  GENERAL  AT  HIS  WORK  95 

that  clung  to  his  fingers  and  seemed  to  whisper  softly  at  his 
touch. 

One  wing  yet  to  be  added.  Mandelberg  had  done  his  best, 
but  Prince  Rilinski  was  stubborn,  and  only  in  the  direst  ex- 
tremity would  he  relinquish  his  hold  on  field,  and  wood,  and 
rights  of  domain — the  deeds  demanded  as  security  by  the 
Kherson  Bank.  The  man  was  evidently  blind  to  his  own 
interests.  He  did  not  dare  to  take  the  plunge  at  once, 
although  he  knew  that  sooner  or  later  it  must  come.  And 
now  there  was  nothing  left  him ;  he  could  only  strive  to  avoid 
catastrophe. 

General  Karatayef  had  no  wish  to  injure  Prince  Rilinski, 
still  less  the  Princess,  who  had  been  kind  to  his  son,  or  the 
children,  who  were  Niki's  friends.  But  power  he  was  deter- 
mined to  have.  It  was  becoming  more  and  more  difficult 
for  him  to  hold  a  protecting  hand  between  Prince  Rilinski 
and  disaster,  and  what  use  would  a  ruined  Rilinski  be  to 
General  Karatayef  or  his  son  ?  The  Prince  was  acting  with 
more  than  imprudence,  despite  the  cautious  counsels  of  Man- 
delberg. He  took  such  loans  as  were  absolutely  necessary  in 
driblets,  letting  the  work  drag  slowly  on,  and  losing  every 
month  increasing  sums  in  interest.  The  Kherson  Bank  had 
encroached  upon  Priluka  even  to  its  lake  and  orchard.  The 
Prince's  sources  of  income  were  rapidly  drying  up.  It  was 
becoming  a  matter  of  difficulty  to  meet  immediate  charges, 
and  this  was  a  time  when  he  needed  ready  money.  Alex- 
ander's engagement  to  Elisaveta  Miliukin  was  about  to  be 
officially  announced.  Later  on,  the  young  couple  might 
count  on  some  support  from  the  Ambassador,  but  the  chief 
contribution  to  their  establishment  must  naturally  come  from 
the  Prince  himself.  It  was  even  doubtful  whether  Vasili 
Miliukin  would  have  been  so  ready  to  give  his  sanction  had 
he  known  the  exact  state  of  affairs  at  Priluka.  Ekaterina 
Sergeievna's  stay  in  Paris  must  have  cost  a  considerable 
amount;  it  was  beyond  doubt  also  an  expensive  thing  to 
have  a  daughter  staying  in  Count  Dolgoruki's  house  in  St. 
Petersburg.  And  General  Karatayef,  pondering  all  these 
things,  and  adding  thereto  the  Prince's  obligations  to  the 
Kherson  Bank,  with  the  losses  caused  by  the  existing  invest- 
ment of  his  whole  available  capital,  saw  very  clearly  that  the 
position  was  untenable  for  any  length  of  time.  The  only  one 


96  KATYA 

who  did  not  seem  to  realize  it  was  the  person  most  nearly 
concerned.  An  important  payment  was  already  overdue,  and 
the  Kherson  Bank  would  be  both  legally  and  morally  entitled 
to  foreclose.  Moreover,  new  loans  must  be  raised  before  the 
end  of  the  summer,  or  the  building  work  at  Peressip  would 
be  indefinitely  adjourned,  which  was  only  another  form  of 
disaster.  General  Karatayef  would  never  have  believed  that 
a  man  of  Prince  Rilinski's  intelligence,  a  father  with  his 
affection  for  his  children,  could  be  so  blindly  obstinate.  He 
resented  this  resistance,  this  imperviousness  to  advice  which, 
albeit  scarcely  disinterested,  was  none  the  less  sound.  Such 
a  contingency  was  unprovided  for  in  his  calculations ;  he  had 
not  foreseen  the  possibility  of  such  imprudence  on  the  part 
of  the  Prince. 

There  was  a  wing  still  unfinished  in  the  palace. 

The  evening  wore  on.  Gradually  the  noise  of  traffic  out- 
side in  the  Konnaya  died  away ;  all  was  still  in  the  great  old 
house  where  General  Karatayef  sat  alone  broidering  ivy  up 
a  high,  white  wall. 

According  to  Mandelberg's  report,  the  mere  mention  of  the 
family  jewels  had  been  sufficient  to  send  the  Prince  into  a 
rage  which  threatened  to  terminate  the  interview.  But  what 
was  the  use  of  these  feelings,  natural  enough,  perhaps,  in  a 
man  like  Sergei  Arkadievitch,  but  quite  out  of  place  in  busi- 
ness affairs  ?  The  family  jewels  must  sooner  or  later  follow 
so  much  else  to  the  strong-room  of  the  Kherson  Bank,  there 
to  repose  until  the  finished  houses  on  the  shore  of  the  Black 
Sea  should  free  them  from  their  durance — and  pay  for  all 
with  interest  manifold.  There  was,  of  course,  the  question 
of  Sasha's  approaching  marriage.  On  such  an  occasion  the 
absence  of  the  famous  Turkish  emeralds  and  turquoises  would 
excite  comment.  Still,  in  case  of  need,  the  Kherson  Bank 
would  no  doubt  be  amenable  to  reason,  and  lend  the  treasures 
for  the  event.  It  was  no  use  making  a  fuss  about  it;  it  was 
a  question  of  common  sense.  .  .  .  No;  the  family  jewels 
were  not  so  inaccessible,  after  all.  There  was  interest  over- 
due; the  new  summer  loan  would  have  to  be  covered  by 
securities  which  were  not  already  involved.  The  whole  was 
a  matter  of  weeks,  or  days.  It  would  soon  be  time  to  think 
of  finding  a  trustworthy  man  to  effect  the  transfer  of  those 
jewels.  .  .  . 


THE  GENERAL  AT  HIS  WORK  97 

With  every  stitch  the  ivy-grown  wing  of  the  white  palace 
grew  and  grew. 

General  Karatayef  remembered  distinctly  his  meeting  with 
Prince  Rilinski  the  previous  autumn  at  Mandelberg's  office. 
Poor  fellow  !  he  was  growing  old,  and  all  this  worry  was 
leaving  its  mark  upon  him.  He  felt  himself  sinking,  that  was 
evident,  and  yet  he  hesitated  to  grasp  the  hand  that  sought 
to  save  him.  Karatayef  was  certain  that  Rilinski  hated  him. 
Not  that  the  Prince  ever  showed  such  feeling  in  word  or  deed 
— he  was  always  and  obstinately  an  aristocrat;  but  there  was 
hate  in  his  eyes,  and  more  than  hate — disgust,  loathing.  .  .  . 
How  much  did  he  know  ? 

"  I  have  been  an  honourable  man  all  my  life,"  the  Prince 
had  said.  "  Great  sums  have  been  entrusted  me  from  the 
Empress's  privy  purse,  and  I  retired  from  office  a  poorer  man 
than  I  went  in.  No  one  has  ever  dared  to  breathe  a  word 
against  the  name  I  bear,  and  what  is  it  all  to  lead  to  ?" 

Did  he  know  anything,  and,  if  so,  would  he  now,  under  the 
stress  of  hate  and  fear,  attempt  revenge  ? 

But  Sergei  Arkadievitch  could  not  know  more  than  was 
known  to  many  others,  nor  was  he  the  man  to  plot  and  plan 
another's  ruin;  yet  it  was  hard,  it  was  cruel,  to  hear  such 
words  as  Prince  Rilinski  had  spoken,  and  to  feel  that  one 
would  give  years  of  one's  life  for  the  right  to  echo  them. 
But  the  Prince  had  been  born  to  wealth  and  position ;  every- 
thing had  lain  ready  for  him,  as  now  for  his  children.  .  .  . 
No ;  the  children  would  be  ruined  by  their  father's  fall.  Their 
fate  lay,  even  as  his,  in  Karatayef's  hand.  And  then  the  ruin 
of  Prince  Rilinski  and  his  house — would  not  that  recoil 
again  on  Niki — ay,  crush  him,  perchance  ?  Who  could 
say  ? 

General  Karatayef  let  his  work  fall.  It  was  late,  and  he 
was  tired. 

No;  the  rest  could  wait.  Later,  after  his  son  had  gone,  he 
would  complete  the  wing  of  that  white  palace,  decked  out  in 
honour  of  the  fairy  prince. 

"  Father,"  said  Niki  the  next  day,  as  soon  as  they  were 
alone,  and  Kapitolina's  superlative  cabbage  soup  cleared 
away — "  father,  I've  lots  of  things  to  tell  you." 

"  That's  good,  my  son.  It's  rarely  I  see  anyone  to  talk  to 

7 


98  KATYA 

now  that  your  mother's  gone.  I  wish  she  could  have  lived 
to  see  this  day.  She  would  have  been  glad  and  proud.  To 
pass  out  top  ..." 

"  H'm  !     Sasha  and  I  were  about  level." 

"  And  the  prospect  of  a  post  in  the  Ministry  ..." 

"  We  have  the  Prince  and  Princess  to  thank  for  that." 

"  And  I  may  live  to  see  you  an  ambassador  yet,  Niki,  if 
you  go  on  at  that  rate."  The  General  bent  down  to  pick  up 
something  from  the  floor.  "  But  if  your  mother  had  been 
alive  she  would  not  have  let  you  run  away  again  so  soon. 
You  are  anxious  to  get  to  Priluka,  I  know.  You  and  Sasha 
appear  to  be  great  friends,  Niki — inseparable."  Again  a 
crevice  of  the  parquet  caught  his  eye. 

"  You  know  even  better  than  I,  father,  how  much  I  owe 
to  the  Rilinskis." 

"  H'm  !    Owe  .  .  .  owe  ...  as  far  as  that's  concerned  .  .  ." 

"  Father,  I  can't  bear  to  hear  you  talk"  like  that !"  The 
young  man  rose  to  his  feet  impatiently;  the  crazy  flooring 
creaked  as  he  moved. 

"  That's  Niki  all  over — excitable  as  ever." 

"I'm  not  excited,  but  I  can't  stand  ...  It  hurts  me, 
father,  to  hear  you  speak  like  that  about  the  Rilinskis,  who 
can  never  do  enough  for  me;  and  that's,  in  away,  a  kindness 
to  you,  too." 

"  H'm  !  Kindly  and  hospitable — yes."  The  General  was 
stooping  once  more. 

"  More  than  that — much  more.  The  Princess  has  been  as 
a  mother  to  me,  and  I  cannot  imagine  a  brother  more  kindly 
and  true  than  Sasha.  And  the  two  young  Princesses  .  .  ." 

"  Like  sisters,  Niki,  shall  we  say — like  sisters  ?" 

"  Father,  how  can  you  sneer  so  ?  You  don't  know  how 
you  hurt  me."  He  walked  to  the  window,  and  stood  with 
his  back  to  his  father,  picking  at  the  loosened  gilding  of  the 
panels. 

"  Come,  Niki,  my  boy,  speak  out.  Which  is  it  ?  You 
can't  be  in  love  with  both  of  them." 

The  boy  turned  round  to  face  his  father,  and  spoke  with 
quiet  determination : 

"  I  am  going  to  ask  Ekaterina  Sergeievna  to  marry  me, 
and  if  she  won't  I  shall  shoot  myself." 

"  Niki,  you  are  not  a  child  !     This  is  mere  nonsense." 


THE  GENERAL  AT  HIS  WORK  99 

"Oh,  I  knew  you'd  say  that.  I  suppose  that's  the  only 
thing  a  father  can  say." 

"  We  might  call  it  romance — your  mother's  weakness,  if 
you  like  that  better." 

"  Father,  I  don't  think  you  understand  me.  We've  seen 
too  little  of  each  other  these  last  years,  and  maybe  we're  too 
unlike.  .  .  ." 

"  What  do  3'ou  mean  ?"  The  General  was  playing  ner- 
vously with  his  cross. 

"  I  mean,  you  are  an  unusually  clever  man,  with  a  perfect 
genius  for  business — at  any  rate,  so  Mandelberg  says — and 
you  lead  a  life  which  I  could  not  endure  ..." 

"  So  much  for  me.     And  yourself  ?" 

"  Oh,  there's  nothing  interesting  about  me.  I'm  just  a 
pretty  hard  worker,  and  a  whole  lot  of  queer  vague  things 
besides  that  I  don't  half  understand  myself." 

"  And  excitable — don't  forget  that,  Niki.  And  with  all 
the  '  vagueness '  of  the  rest  you  are  yet  quite  determined  to 
marry  Ekaterina  Sergeievna — or  shoot  yourself." 

"  Yes." 

"  Your  decision  does  not  show  any  great  consideration  for 
others.  Let  us  suppose  that  the  young  lady  says  no.  She 
may  have  met  someone  in  Paris." 

"  She  hasn't.     I  know  that." 

"  You  know  ?  Oh,  from  Sasha,  I  suppose.  Well,  let  her 
say  no  for  some  other  reason,  and  you  shoot  yourself — 
you,  my  son.  Well,  well,  a  childless  old  man  more  or  less 
.  .  .  and  a  hard-hearted  man  of  business  would  soon  get  over 
it  ...  rich  enough  to  never  miss  a  mere  only  son  ..." 

"  Father,  I  didn't  mean  ..." 

The  Genera]  stooped  to  pick  up  a  thread,  and  continued : 

"  It  wouldn't  matter  about  him.  An  old  miser  out  of  one 
of  your  mother's  novels,  counting  his  money,  caring  for 
nothing  else  .  .  .  never  mind  about  him." 

"  Father,  how  can  you  twist  my  words  to  things  I  never 
thought  ?" 

"  But  the  girl  herself  and  her  family,  who  have  been  so 
kind.  May  I  ask,  do  you  intend  to  acquaint  her  with  the — 
er — alternative  ?" 

"  Tell  her  ?  Is  it  likely  ?  You  turn  and  twist  everything 
I  say  .  .  ." 


TOO  KATYA 

"  I  merely  asked.  Well,  then,  she  and  her  family  receive 
the  sudden  news  that  you  have  killed  yourself — possibly  at 
Priluka  itself  ..." 

"  Yes." 

"  I  thought  as  much.  And  so  you  show  your  gratitude  to 
these  people  by  making  their  pleasant  home  the  scene  of  a 
horrible  tragedy,  causing  the  young  lady  herself  and  all  her 
family  a  great  deal  of  pain  and  trouble,  perhaps  even  scandal. 
.  .  .  You  are  right,  Niki;  we  are  unlike,  you  and  I.  If  I 
wanted  to  shoot  myself,  I  shouldn't  begin  by  telling  people 
about  it,  and  I  should  take  care  that  no  friend  of  mine  should 
ever  guess  that  they  had  been  directly  or  indirectly  re- 
sponsible. But,  then,  I'm  only  an  old  miser,  with  no  feel- 
ings." 

"  But  you  admit  that  there  may  be  circumstances  where 
it  is  the  only  way  ?" 

"  I  have  said  nothing  of  the  kind." 

"  Well,  let  us  suppose  .  .  .  say,  for  instance,  someone  were 
to  impeach  your  honour  as  an  officer,  and  something  made  it 
impossible  for  you  to  .  .  ." 

"  You  are  getting  away  from  the  point."  The  General 
was  busy  fishing  up  something  from  a  crack  in  the  floor. 

"  No,  father,  I'm  not.  I  only  want  to  show  you  that  there 
may  come  a  time  in  a  man's  life  when  he  doesn't  care  to  go 
on  living.  I  shan't  forget  what  you  have  said,  and  I'm  sorry 
if  I've  said  anything  to  hurt  you,  father.  I  didn't  mean  to 
be  unkind.  But  if  Katya  Rilinski  won't  have  me,  then  as 
sure  as  I  stand  here  I'll  shoot  myself." 

"  Student's  nonsense  !  This  comes  of  reading  Dostoiefski." 
The  General  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"If  you  persist  in  talking  like  that,  I  shall  have  to  go." 
The  boy's  voice  was  pregnant  with  repressed  passion;  his 
father  forbore  to  answer. 

"  Niki,"  he  said  at  last,  after  a  long  silence,  "  how  far  have 
things  gone  between  you  ?" 

"  How  far  ?  We  have  never  spoken  a  word,  either  of  us, 
about  anything  of  that  sort." 

"  And  Sonya  ?  You  always  used  to  speak  so  kindly  of  her 
— also  in  your  letters  from  Priluka  last  summer.  I  had  rather 
an  idea  that  it  was  she." 

"  Sonya  ...  no,  you  see.  .  .  ."     Niki  turned  again  to  the 


THE  GENERAL  AT  HIS  WORK  101 

gilding  in  the  window,  "  She's  so  much  younger,  and  .  .  . 
and  .  .  ." 

"It  is  to  be  the  elder  sister.  Very  well.  She's  pretty,  I 
admit.  And  Mandelberg  tells  me  she  appears  to  be  clever ; 
but  .  .  .  '  difficile  '  was  the  word  he  used.  I  don't  know  what 
reason  he  may  have  for  saying  so." 

"  Mandelberg  doesn't  know  anything  about  it." 

"  He's  a  clever  man,  Niki.  But  never  mind  that.  Do 
you — have  you  any  reason  to — er — hope  ?" 

"  Yes;  you  see,  I  love  her  so."  There  was  a  ring  of  quiet, 
natural  confidence  in  his  voice. 

"  Niki,  my  boy,  forgive  me  if  I've  said  anything  to  hurt 
you."  The  General  paused  a  moment,  and  went  on :  "  And 
now,  suppose  you  do  win  her,  this  little  Katya  of  yours,  what 
do  you  think  her  father  and  mother  will  have  to  say  to  it  ?" 

"  Princess  Rilinski  has  always  been  kind  to  me,  and  I  think 
she  likes  me.  And  the  Prince,  too,  has  been  kindness  itself; 
he  thanked  me  once"  for  having  been,  as  he  said,  so  true  a 
friend  to  Sasha.  They're  always  a  little  anxious  about  his 
health,  you  know ;  he  has  a  cough  now  and  then  which  I  don't 
like.  ,  ,  ." 

"  Does  Sasha  know  anything  of  your  plan  ?" 

"  No;  I've  got  to  win  her  by  myself;  I'm  quite  clear  on  that 
point.  And  if  not.  .  .  ." 

"  There,  don't  let's  begin  again  about  that."  The  General 
drew  his  son's  arm  through  his  own,  and  the  two  walked  up 
and  down  in  silence  for  a  minute. 

"  Niki,  I  want  you  to  promise  your  old  father  something. 
Don't  be  afraid — it's  not  so  difficult.  But  if  all  goes  as  you 
wish — as  we  wish — with  little  Ekaterina  Sergeievna,  and  any 
difficulty  arises  with  the  Princess,  for  instance,  or — one  never 
knows — perhaps  Prince  Rilinski  himself,  then  telegraph  for 
me — before  you  shoot  yourself,"  he  added,  with  a  smile. 
"  You  promise,  Niki  ?" 

"  Yes,  father,  I  promise."     He  pressed  his  father's  arm. 

"  Good.  That's  all  I  ask.  And  good  luck  go  with  you,  my 
son,  my  great  ambassador  to  be.  If  only  your  mother  had 
lived  to  see  it !  I  know  one  little  woman  who  would  have 
treasured,  shall  we  say,  a  little  card,  with  '  Ekaterina  Ser- 
geievna Karatayef,  nee  Princess  Rilinski.'  Your  mother  loved 
you  very  dearly,  boy ;  she  did  more  for  you  than  you  ever  knew. 


102  KATYA 

The  love  of  all  her  life  .  .  .  and  no  sacrifice  that  was  too  great 
.  .  .  even  to  the  peace  of  her  conscience.  Heaven  be  praised 
that  you've  proved  worthy  of  it,  my  son !" 

"  Father,  what  do  you  mean  ?" 

"  Nothing,  boy,  nothing — only  that  you've  had  a  good 
mother,  who  prayed  to  God  for  your  happiness.  Do  not 
forget  her,  my  boy.  She  never  forgot  you,  however  far  you 
might  be;  denied  herself  everything  for  your  sake,  and  dared 
everything  that  might  mean  gain  to  you.  She  made  a 
shrine  for  you  in  her  heart,  and  in  the  evenings,  as  she  sat 
at  her  work,  her  thoughts  were  always  with  you.  And  now 
she  will  have  not  only  you,  but  your  little  Katya,  to  dream  of. 
Now  she  has  two  to  make  happiness  for,  and  easy  ways. 
Niki,  sometimes  when  you  are  very  happy,  think  for  a 
moment  of  her.  .  .  ." 

The  General  led  his  son  to  Anna  Dimitrievna's  room, 
where  the  dust  lay  thick  on  faded  memories,  and  opened  the 
old  chest  which  had  borne  the  holy  relics  of  a  mother's  love 
throughout  all  Russia. 

"  Do  not  forget  her,  Niki.  Her  hands  grew  coarse  with 
work  done  for  your  sake.  But  her  soul  was  clean." 


CHAPTER  IX 

KATYA    LISTENS 

KATYA  was  sitting  in  one  of  the  easy  chairs  in  the  Club, 
leaning  back,  with  her  hands  clasped  behind  her  head.  She 
knew  Sasha  did  not  approve  of  her  presence  there,  and  Sonya 
never  came  unless  expressly  invited.  To-day,  however, 
Katya  happened  to  be  passing,  and,  hearing  voices  and 
laughter  inside,  felt  a  sudden  desire  to  join  them.  She  was 
not  in  the  best  of  spirits  herself  of  late. 

"  You  ought  not  to  smoke  so  much,  Sasha,"  she  said.  The 
floor  about  the  table  was  thickly  strewn  with  cigarette-ends. 
"It's  bad  for  the  lungs." 

"  Really  ?  You  know  all  about  it,  it  seems.  You've 
grown  quite  clever  since  that  holiday  in  Paris." 

"  More  than  can  be  said  of  you  three,  anyhow.  You're  all 
simply  childish  since  you  passed  your  silly  exams." 


KATYA  LISTENS  103 

"  My  dear,"  said  Sasha  politely,  "  as  far  as  Niki  and  I  are 
concerned,  you  may  treat  us  as  you  please, but  kindly  remember 
that  Petya  is  present.  A  respectful  demeanour,  and  the  title 
of '  Your  Honour  '  are  necessary  when  addressing  an  officer  in 
the  Imperial  Navy." 

"  Ekaterina  Sergeievna  has  danced  with  Grand  Dukes," 
put  in  Karatayef.  "  Petya's  glory  doesn't  impress  her." 

"  I  never  said  I  had  danced  with  a  Grand  Duke.  I  don't 
believe  they  can  dance — they're  too  stiff  and  staid.  But  they 
can  make  love — at  any  rate,  some  of  them." 

"  That's  very  interesting,"  said  Sasha.  "  And  can  you 
explain  to  us,  dear  Katya,  this  remarkable  problem:  how  a 
Grand  Duke,  too  stiff  and  staid  to  dance,  yet  manages  to 
make  love  ?  Speak,  sister,  since  you  have  pleased  to  honour 
us  with  your  presence  in  this  otherwise  peaceful  spot." 

"  Oh,  keep  your  sarcasm  to  yourself.  I  don't  know  if  Petya 
and  Nikolai  Nikolai evitch  object  to  my  sitting  here  a  moment 
when  I'm  tired  ?" 

"  Of  course  not,  Katya;  what  an  idea  !"  protested  Petya 
hastily;  and  Karatayef  went  on :  "  On  the  contrary,  Ekaterina 
Sergeievna,  stay  and  tell  us  something  more  about  Paris." 

"  Really,  I've  told  you  all  there  was  to  tell.  Of  course, 
Elisaveta  was  admired  wherever  she  went,  and  there  were 
several  young  men  whom  she  seemed  to  favour  very  much." 

"  Several  ?  Oh,  then,  that's  all  right,"  observed  Sasha. 
"  No,  Katya,  you're  not  so  smart  as  I  thought  you  were, 
after  all." 

"  Well,  ask  her  yourself  next  week,  when  she  comes.  If 
she  comes,  that  is.  She  may  have  changed  her  mind.  I  know 
/  should." 

"  How  about  your  own  conquests,  Ekaterina  Sergeievna  ?" 
asked  Karatayef. 

"  Oh,  I  only  fell  desperately  in  love  with  one  of  them,  an 
Englishman.  George  Farringham  was  his  name." 

"  You  only  say  that  to  show  off,"  said  Lieutenant  Oiioff, 
with  a  laugh.  "  We  know  all  about  you,  Katya.  An  English- 
man, indeed  !  You'd  never  have  him." 

"  Is  Your  Honour  so  certain  of  that  ?" 

"  You  never  said  a  word  about  him  in  your  letters."  The 
words  were  out  before  he  could  think ;  Petya  coloured  deeply 
and  avoided  Karatayef's  glance. 


104  KATYA 

Katya  never  moved  a  muscle.  Still  in  the  same  careless 
tone  she  answered : 

"  One  doesn't  write  of  such  things  to  one's  parents — not 
even  to  one's  brother.  And  I  know  Elisaveta  never  said  a 
word  about  it  either.  Did  she,  Sasha  ?" 

"  Not  a  syllable,"  corroborated  Sasha.  He  had  not  failed 
to  notice  Petya's  slip  of  the  tongue,  and  was  inwardly  rejoicing 
at  his  sister's  ready  resourcefulness.  He  remembered  the 
clandestine  correspondence  of  the  year  before. 

"  I  never  knew  that  Katya  had  ever  sent  you  a  single  letter 
from  Paris,  Sasha,"  said  Karatayef,  with  unusual  interest. 
"  You  never  said  a  word  about  it  to  me." 

"  Heaps  of  letters,"  said  Katya  decisively. 

"  Well,  I  should  hardly  call  it  heaps,"  objected  Sasha  with 
a  smile. 

"  I  should.  But  of  course  you  thought  more  of  Elisaveta 
than  of  me.  What's  a  sister,  after  all  ?" 

"  Oh,  by  all  means  throw  the  blame  on  Elisaveta  if  you 
like,"  said  Sasha  carelessly.  But  Karatayef  was  far  from 
satisfied,  and  sat  there  wishing  that  he  dared  to  ask  outright, 
in  such  a  manner  as  to  force  them  to  the  truth.  Petya  had 
regained  confidence,  however,  and  was  beginning  to  think  he 
had  managed  it  very  cleverly.  He  inquired  further  about  the 
wonderful  Englishman. 

"  Farringham  ?  Oh,  he's  a  nice  young  man — handsome,  of 
course;  a  clergyman's  son.  .  .  ." 

All  laughed  aloud  at  this;  even  Niki  Karatayef  joining  in 
the  general  mirth. 

"  You're  rather  children,  you  know,  in  spite  of  all  your 
silly  exams.,"  said  Katya,  enjoying  the  effect  of  her  words. 
"  Your  idea  of  a  country  clergyman  is  a  dirty  old  man  with 
long  hair,  who  spends  most  of  his  time  drinking  with  the 
peasants;  that's  the  only  sort  you  have  ever  seen.  If  you'd 
ever  read  an  English  novel  in  your  lives  ..." 

"  Oh,  yes,  thanks,  we  know  all  about  it,"  interrupted 
Sasha.  "  The  country  clergyman's  son  comes  into  a  fortune 
in  the  last  chapter,  with  a  title  into  the  bargain,  marries  the 
girl  of  his  heart,  and  they  all  live  happily  ever  after.  No 
doubt  your  Englishman  is  really  His  Grace  the  Duke  of  Farring- 
ham when  all's  said  and  done." 
"  Very  likely  he  is.  At  any  rate,  he  belongs  to  the  cadet 


KATYA  LISTENS  105 

branch  of  that  famous  house,  and  for  the  present  he  happens 
to  be  Attache"  at  the  Embassy  of  his  country  in  Paris,  which  is 
more  than  any  of  you  can  say." 

"  And  you're  in  love  with  him  ?"  said  Petya  interroga- 
tively. 

"  Madly  in  love.     He's  coming  to  Priluka  ..." 

"  Coming  here !"  Karatayef  almost  sprang  out  of  his 
chair. 

"...  this  year  or  next,  as  soon  as  he  can  get  leave.  Papa 
has  written  to  him — you  can  ask  if  you  like.  Papa's  so  easy 
to  get  round  just  now — haven't  you  noticed  it  ? — And  by  way 
of  reward  for  his  good  behaviour,  I've  promised  to  go  with  him 
to  Shipagin's.  Isn't  it  nice  of  me  ?" 

"  You  are  going  away  ?"  Karatayef  seemed  quite 
agitated. 

"  Only  for  three  days.  We  are  to  drive  the  whole  way  in 
the  little  phaeton — with  the  two  blacks.  Papa  expects  to 
settle  his  business  with  Alexander  Aristidovitch  in  one  day, 
and  it's  only  a  day's  journey  each  way.  I'm  looking  forward 
to  it." 

"  And  is  Vladimir  Shipagin  coming  back  with  you  ?" 
asked  Petya. 

"  He's  away  from  home,  it  seems.  Mama  wrote  and  invited 
him,  as  usual,  and  he  answered — I  think  it  was  from  some- 
where in  the  Crimea — that  he  wouldn't  be  able  to  come  till 
later.  We  shall  have  some  fun  with  him  and  Elisaveta  and 
Elena,  just  like  last  year.  If  only  poor  Elena  doesn't  faint  at 
the  sight  of  him  !" 

"  He  never  gives  her  a  thought,"  said  Petya.  "  I  saw  him 
in  Odessa  a  month  or  so  ago,  with — well,  he  wasn't  alone,  you 
know." 

"  Oh,  this  is  interesting.  Go  on,  Petya,  tell  us  all  about 
it." 

"  I  don't  think  him  interesting  in  the  least.  He  never 
seems  to  do  anything,  and  thinks  of  nothing  but  clothes  and 
women.  His  father  pays  for  both." 

"  Your  Honour  will  kindly  reserve  your  mess-room  stories 
until  visitors  have  left  the  Club,"  put  in  Sasha  coldly. 

"  Oh,  all  right,"  said  Katya  loftily.  "  /  don't  want  to  hear 
your  nasty  stories.  And  I  shan't  forget  to  tell  Elisaveta.  .  .  ." 

She  sprang  up  and  slipped  out  into  the  sunshine. 


io6  KATYA 

Prince  Rilinski  was  sitting  in  the  phaeton  with  Katya  by 
his  side.  He  was  going  to  negotiate  with  Alexander  Aristido- 
vitch  at  the  latter 's  estate  of  Patkanovo  on  the  subject  of  a 
loan.  It  was  not  without  considerable  reluctance  that  he 
brought  himself  to  visit  Shipagin  on  such  an  errand,  espe- 
cially as  they  had  seen  nothing  of  each  other  for  many  years, 
and  had  not  even  corresponded.  Still,  Alexander  Shipagin's 
son  had  been  kindly  received  and  hospitably  entertained  at 
Priluka;  Anastasia  Gregorievna  had  been  faithful  here  as 
everywhere,  and  her  kindness  would  doubtless  reap  its  reward. 
.  .  .  For  the  Prince  needed  money,  and  that  without  delay. 
Mandelberg  had  again  written  offering  to  settle  the  whole 
business  with  the  Kherson  Bank  on  favourable  terms,  pro- 
vided. .  .  .  Prince  Sergei  knew  the  rest  of  the  letter  by  heart; 
he  carried  it  on  his  person  to  Patkanovo,  fearing  lest,  in  his 
absence,  it  should  fall  into  other  hands.  "  Provided  that  I 
am  empowered  to  offer  as  security,  besides  the  landed  property, 
of  which  the  bank  has  already  an  unusually  large  amount,  the 
jewels,  precious  stones,  and  gold  and  silver  ornaments  belong- 
ing to  Your  Highness,  to  be  included  among  the  securities 
already  deposited  there.  I  take  the  liberty  of  reminding 
Your  Highness  once  more  that  it  would,  in  my  opinion,  be  in 
every  way  advisable  to  accept  this  favourable  offer.  By  so 
doing,  the  arrears  of  interest  which  might  now  at  any  moment 
occasion  a  regrettable  but  perfectly  justifiable  course  of 
action  on  the  part  of  the  bank,  would  be  paid  off,  in  addition 
to  which,  the  difficulties  at  present  hindering  the  com- 
pletion of  Your  Highness's  operations  in  Peressip  would  at 
once  be  most  satisfactorily  removed." 

Impossible  !  To  go  to  his  wife  and  ask  her  to  deliver  up 
the  family  jewels  which  he  himself  had  hung  about  her  neck 
on  the  day  he  led  her  home  as  his  bride.  .  .  .  Generation  after 
generation  of  his  race  had  worn  them ;  they  were  a  symbol  of 
former  greatness  and  splendour.  The  emerald  diadem  had 
shone  in  the  hair  of  a  Princess  of  Croatia,  who  had  married  a 
Rilinski,  and  become  Queen  of  the  Slav  lands  about  the 
Adriatic.  The  turquoises  had  been  taken  as  spoil  of  war  by 
a  Rilinski  during  Tsar  Stefan  Dushan's  Balkan  campaign. 
There  were  diamonds  which  had  been  presented  by  a  Musco- 
vite Tsar  to  that  Rilinski  whose  services  had  been  of  such 
decisive  importance  in  the  war  against  the  Poles  in  Ukraine; 


KATYA  LISTENS  107 

there  were  the  pearls  which  Alexander  I.  had  presented  to  his 
friend  and  trusted  adviser,  Lasar  Rilinski,  a  contemporary 
of  Kutusof,  and  the  first  of  the  Russian  statesmen  at  the 
Congress  of  Vienna.  And  all  these  treasures  were  to  be 
handed  over  to  General  Karatayef  and  his  hateful  bank  ! 
It  was  humiliation  worse  than  any  ruin.  They  were  not  his, 
but  the  property  of  his  race,  a  sacred  heirloom  from  the  past ; 
his  only  to  hand  down,  unsullied  and  undiminished,  to  his 
descendants.  The  day  was  near  now  when  Sasha  should 
have  the  right  to  choose  the  fairest  jewel  from  the  iron  casket 
and  lay  upon  Elisaveta  Vasilievna's  pillow  ere  she  awoke  as  his 
wife.  And  if  there  should  be  missing  the  meanest  stone — 
great  Heaven  ! — he,  Prince  Rilinski,  would  have  robbed  his  son. 

But  the  money — the  money  !  It  was  a  happy  thought  to 
go  to  Shipagin;  he  could  well  spare  the  money  if  he  would. 
And  help  was  sorely  needed .  For  it  was  not  only  the  arrears 
of  interest,  which  the  Kherson  Bank  of  late  had  almost 
threateningly  demanded;  not  only  the  building  operations 
in  Peressip,  which  continued  to  swallow  uncountable  sums — 
it  was  Sasha's  future,  and  that  of  both  the  girls,  that  danger 
shadowed.  Vasili  Miliukin  had  written  several  times  from 
Paris  inquiring  in  the  most  business-like  manner  as  to  Sasha's 
prospects.  Kleopatra  Gregorievna  had  in  her  letters  to  the 
Princess  enlarged  upon  the  heavy  expenses  inseparable  from  a 
diplomatic  career  in  Russia,  and  had  desired  to  know  what 
support  Sasha  might  expect  from  his  parents,  stating  quite 
frankly  herself  the  amount  which  Elisaveta  was  to  receive  from 
her  family — at  any  rate,  for  the  present.  Where  was  it  all 
to  come  from  now  that  his  income  was  decreasing  almost  day 
by  day  ?  And  sooner  or  later  there  would  be  the  marriage 
portions  for  his  own  daughters  to  be  provided — how,  Heaven 
only  knew  !  All  his  available  capital,  even  including  Anas- 
tasia  Gregorievna's  personal  property  was  already  involved. 
And  she,  poor  soul,  knew  but  the  half  of  the  truth,  that  was 
yet  sufficient  to  make  her  suspect  approaching  calamity. 
She  had  begged  him  to  share  his  trouble  with  her — begged 
him  to  let  her  help  .  .  .  his  true  wife — if  she  only  could  ! 

"  Sighing  again  ?  What  is  it,  papa  dear  ?"  Katya  took 
his  hand  and  patted  it. 

"  Oh,  nothing,  dear — that  is,  many  things  that  you  wouldn't 
understand,  little  Katya." 


ro8  KATYA 

"  Are  you  glad  you  took  me  with  you,  papa  ?" 

"  Yes,  dear  child,  indeed.  It  won't  be  very  amusing  at 
Patkanovo." 

"  And  you  won't  tell  me  what  it  is  that's  worrying  you, 
papa  ?" 

"  Do  not  ask,  dear.  It's  not  so  very  bad.  You'll  see,  we 
shall  manage  all  right.  ..." 

"Drive  faster,  Mikailo  1"  called  Katya  suddenly.  "Only 
don't  upset  us  this  time  I" 

Mikailo's  burly  shoulders  creased  into  something  like  the 
back  of  a  smile;  it  pleased  the  little  lamb  to  jest.  A  couple 
of  days  ago  Mikailo  had  been  so  unfortunate  as  to  upset  the 
Princess  and  Sonya,  returning  from  church  at  Dubni.  Such 
little  accidents  happened  occasionally,  when  the  road  had 
taken  some  new  whim  into  its  head.  And  how  could  it  be 
otherwise  ?  Mikailo  drove  post-haste  always  and  every- 
where; a  meaner  rate  of  speed  would  have  been  derogatory 
both  to  his  own  dignity  and  to  that  of  the  noble  house  he 
served.  And  whenever  anything  did  happen,  then  it  was  not 
a  mere  vulgar  overturning  encountered  at  a  foot-pace,  and 
no  harm  done,  but  a  real  accident,  with  all  honourable 
attributes  in  the  way  of  danger,  destruction,  and  subsequent 
expense.  True,  a  catastrophe  of  the  sort  sent  honest  Mikailo, 
as  a  rule,  into  self-imposed  exile  for  periods  which  had  been 
known  to  extend  to  several  days,  during  which  quarantine  his 
wife  strewed  hints  of  suicide  abroad;  but  he  always  reap- 
peared, chastened  in  soul  and  self-absolved  of  fault.  And 
being  asked  how  he  dared  to  show  his  face  again,  he  humbly 
answered  that  the  horses  were  pining  to  death  for  his  presence, 
and  he  could  not  bear  to  torture  the  good  beasts. 

Mikailo  was  wearing  his  stateliest  livery,  sensible  of  the 
fact  that  he  was  driving  the  Prince  himself  and  Ekaterina 
Sergeievna ;  the  latter  being  in  his  eyes  some  strangely  hybrid 
being,  half  comrade,  fearless  as  his  fearless  self,  and  half  a 
mistress  very  greatly  to  be  dreaded.  He  sat  there  proudly 
on  his  box,  inviting  her  admiration,  a  splendid  figure  in  his 
sleeveless  kaftan  of  black  velvet,  with  the  red  arms  of  his 
blouse  showing  through ;  a  belt  of  silver  round  his  waist,  and 
a  tall  cloth  cap  topped  with  peacock  feathers  on  his  swarthy, 
curly  head.  The  little  lamb  wished  to  drive  faster  ?  Nothing 
easier.  Mikailo  leaned  forward,  with  arms  outstretched,  and 


KATYA  LISTENS  109 

taking  the  two  loops  of  the  reins,  stamped  and  shouted  at  the 
two  black  beasts  till  they  flew  over  the  broad,  unlevel  way. 
Wherever  there  was  mud,  that  mud  was  flung  in  a  cascade  to 
either  side;  the  few  low  rises  were  topped  with  a  rocket's 
flight,  the  following  descent  taken  at  meteor  speed.  The 
carriage  groaned  in  every  fibre,  and  tortured  springs  made 
loud  complaint,  the  mudguards  flapping  ceaselessly  like  wings 
of  a  wounded  bird.  And  Mikailo  called  to  the  horses  to  go 
faster — and  faster  still — his  own  grip  tightening  on  the  reins 
the  while,  until  the  muscles  swelled  beneath  his  bright  red 
sleeves. 

"  Faster,  Mikailo,  faster  !" 

Katya  loved  this  wild  speed  of  her  wide,  wild  land.  It  was 
strangely  fascinating  to  lean  back  against  soft  cushions,  half 
lulled  by  mere  monotony  of  haste,  half  intoxicated  by  the 
ever-present  peril  of  disaster.  In  Paris — what  did  they 
know  of  driving  in  Paris  !  As  little  as  they  knew  how  to 
dance  or  sing.  Mikailo,  master  of  all  three  arts,  would  have 
put  to  shame  the  first  stars  of  the  Bois  or  of  the  Opera.  .  .  . 
What  would  Farringham  think  of  Ukraine  when  he  came  ? 
Petya  was  a  clumsy  boy;  he  had  let  Niki  Karatayef  see  that 
she  had  exchanged  letters  with  him.  But  that  was  of  no  con- 
sequence, after  all ;  Niki  had  no  right  to  her,  no  sort  of  claim ; 
he  was  lax  now  as  ever  in  his  homage;  there  seemed  even  at 
times  to  be  something  imperatively  careless  in  his  manner, 
as  though  he  had  no  cause  to  fear,  no  reason  to  be  kind. 
Katya  found  herself  wondering  if  perhaps,  even  here  at  her  own 
Priluka,  she  were  nothing  after  all  but  "  la  petite  Rilinski  " — 
a  toylike  thing  that  men  could  take  and  leave  as  pleased  their 
humour.  No,  it  was  impossible.  That  day,  in  the  Club,  Niki 
Karatayef  had  plainly  shown  that  he  was  jealous,  furiously 
jealous  of  Petya.  But  then,  why  did  he  not  come  and  tell  her 
that  she  was  all  his  world,  all  his  hope,  as  Petya  had  that 
evening  in  the  boat  ?  She  longed  for  him  to  come  so — needed 
most  of  all  that  he  should  come  to  her  and  let  her  see  that  she 
was  home  again,  and  mistress  of  Priluka — of  them  all. 

"  Why,  Katya,  you  are  sighing  now  !  Is  anything  the 
matter,  dear  ?" 

"  No,  papa,  nothing.     I'm  glad  to  sit  beside  you  here." 

Mikailo  used  no  whip;  the  silver-mounted  toy,  so-called, 
that  hung  supinely  ornamental  on  his  arm,  was  of  a  dignity 


no  KATYA 

beyond  mere  vulgar  use.  But  he  had  an  infinite  scale  of 
sounds  at  his  command  whenever  guidance  or  encouragement 
were  needed.  He  talked  to  his  beasts  after  the  manner  of  a 
General  instructing  his  staff,  and  when  words  failed  he  hissed 
and  whistled,  shouted  and  sang,  doubtless  writh  some  deep 
meaning.  At  any  rate,  the  horses  understood,  and  mightily 
they  dashed  forward  over  mud  and  stone  and  turf  and  sand. 

Prince  Rilinski  was  occasionally  able,  in  moments  of  in- 
spiration, to  persuade  himself  that  the  situation  was  really 
not  so  desperate  after  all.  As,  for  instance,  now.  As  soon 
as  Alexander  Shipagin  had  accommodated  him  with  this 
little  loan,  then  everything  would  be  all  right  again.  Im- 
mediate arrears  paid  off,  provision  made  for  the  continuance 
of  building  operations  through  the  summer,  and  no  more  non- 
sense about  the  family  jewels.  ...  It  was  very  pleasant 
thus  to  lighten  the  burden  of  anxiety  against  the  pillar  of 
hope,  but  it  could  not  last.  In  a  flash  he  saw  through  his 
veil  of  dreams  the  full  extent  of  the  peril  that  threatened  him. 
Shipagin  could  not,  or  would  not,  help  him;  the  Kherson 
Bank  would  sell  Priluka's  land  beneath  his  very  windows, 
and  then — then  he  must  choose  between  open  ruin  and  the 
surrender  of  those  heirlooms  of  his  race.  It  was  horrible. 
The  very  thought  of  General  Karatayef  made  him  shiver 
with  hate  and  fear. 

"  What  do  you  say,  Katya  ?  Shall  we  give  the  horses  a 
rest  ?  It  would  be  nice  to  sit  down  a  moment  in  the  shade; 
the  heat  is  awful." 

"  Certainly,  papa,  if  you  like.  Mikailo,  put  up  at  the 
nearest  house;  but  a  nice  one,  with  a  garden  and  lots  of 
trees  I" 

"  Very  well,  Barishna  !" 

Katya's  thoughts  had  gone  back  a  year  to  the  last  summer 
at  Priluka.  It  seemed  so  very  long  ago.  Then  she  had  only 
wished  to  punish  Niki  Karatayef,  and  reduce  him  to  obedience 
once  more,  after  his  momentary  struggle  for  freedom;  but 
now  it  was  all  different.  She  wanted  more — much  more. 
He  should  be  kind  to  her,  make  her  happy,  show  her  how 
glad  he  was  that  she  had  not  stayed  in  Paris  and  accepted 
Farringham  the  Englishman.  He  should  think  of  no  one  but 
her,  just  as  she  .  .  .  she  thought  a  great  deal  too  much  of 
him.  And  how  could  he  be  so  slow  ?  Why  didn't  he  under- 


KATYA  LISTENS  in 

stand,  like  Petya  ?  But  Petya  was  only  a  big,  handsome, 
chivalrous  boy.  It  was  time  he  grew  out  of  that  sort  of 
thing.  Niki  Karatayef  was  a  man — a  strong  man,  horribly 
strong.  .  .  . 

Mikailo  drew  up  at  a  little  white  house  set  in  sunflowers 
and  hollyhocks  on  the  edge  of  a  wood.  A  young  woman  was 
standing  in  the  doorway.  The  Prince  asked  her  permission 
to  lead  the  horses  into  the  yard,  where  they  could  stand  in 
the  shade.  She  helped  Mikailo  to  unharness,  and  brought  a 
draught  of  cool  milk  to  the  Barin  and  Barina.  Money  she 
would  not  take. 

"  You  are  foreigners,  I  think,"  she  said,  "  though  your 
man  there  is  Russian.  Here  in  Ukraine  one  does  not  pay 
for  a  moment's  rest  on  the  road." 

Katya  slipped  a  rouble  into  the  hand  of  the  eldest  of  a 
flock  of  children  that  had  materialized  out  of  nowhere  on 
their  arrival,  and  went  off  with  her  father  to  walk  in  the  shade 
of  the  wood.  Mikailo  stayed  behind  to  rub  down  the  horses, 
and  bathe  their  heads  in  water  warmed  by  the  sun. 

"  And  what  is  the  matter  with  you  of  late,  little  Katya  ? 
Ever  since  Sasha  and  his  friends  arrived  you  have  been  so 
quiet.  I  scarcely  know  my  bright  little  girl  again.  And 
you  were  so  glad  to  come  home  to  Priluka  after  the  long  time 
in  Paris." 

"  Papa,  tell  me  the  truth;  is  it  anything  about  Priluka 
that  is  worrying  you  and  mother  ?" 

"  Nonsense,  child  !  What  could  there  be  to  worry  us  there  ?" 

"  Or  about  Sasha  and  Elisaveta  ?" 

"  Now  what  foolish  stories  have  you  been  weaving  in  your 
little  head  ?" 

"  Papa,  is  Mandelberg  a  friend  of  yours  ?" 

"  H'm  !  Friend  !  No,  I  should  hardly  call  him  a  friend. 
He  is  my  agent,  and  a  clever  and  honest  man.  What  on  earth 
has  that  to  do  with  .  .  .  ?" 

"  I  don't  like  him." 

"  You  hardly  know  him,  child." 

"  I  know  him  well  enough  to  see  that  every  time  he  comes 
here  or  you  go  to  see  him  in  Odessa  mother  and  you  are  always 
worried  about  something  afterwards.  Is  it  not  true  ?" 

"  Even  if  it  were  so,  dear,  you  may  be  sure  that  it  is  no 
fault  of  his.  Shall  we  turn  back  ?" 


112  KATYA 

"  Papa,  I  do  wish  you'd  tell  me  all  about  it.  I'm  quite 
sure  I  could  help  you." 

"  My  brave  little  girl,"  said  the  Prince  with  a  smile,  "  I 
know  you  are  clever,  dear,  and  your  husband  may  one  day 
be  thankful  for  it;  but  all  these  things  are  a  little  too  heavy 
for  your  young  shoulders.  Leave  them  to  me,  dear.  I'm 
glad  to  have  you  with  me,  though — my  little  Cossack,  as 
they  used  to  call  you  in  Paris." 

"  It's  wrong  of  you,  papa,  to  count  me  a  child,  just  like 
everybody  else,  and  one  day  you  may  be  sorry." 

"  I  hope  not,  my  child.     See,  Mikailo  is  ready." 

Once  more  seated  in  the  carriage  by  her  father's  side,  Katya 
felt  almost  inclined  to  cry  with  helpless  vexation.  She  could 
not  say  what  it  was  that  troubled  her.  There  was  something 
she  feared,  and  something  she  longed  for,  and  something 
which  lay  like  a  physical  pressure  just  beneath  her  heart ;  and 
it  was  all  mixed  up  together  somehow,  and  she  didn't  know 
what  it  all  meant. 

Through  misty  eyes  she  saw  the  broad  flat  landscape 
gliding  past,  green  plains,  with  here  and  there  thatched  farm- 
houses like  mushrooms  set  in  moss,  fields  of  poppies  and  sun- 
flowers, and  seas  of  wheat  in  heavy-flowing  waves.  The 
ditches  were  bordered  with  a  wealth  of  flowers;  there  were 
clusters  of  hollyhocks  against  the  low  walls  of  the  scattered 
houses.  Here  stood  a  line  of  windmills,  each  scarcely  higher 
than  a  haystack,  and  all  in  a  sad  state  of  disrepair;  there  an 
ancient  oak  leaned  out  over  the  road,  and  farther  on  a 
straggling  circle  of  poplars  ineffectually  hedging  in  a  tiny 
lake  covered  with  water-lilies.  A  little  river,  too,  wound  in 
and  out — one  of  the  tributaries  of  the  Dniepr — with  giant 
thistles  fringing  its  sandy  banks.  There  was  not  a  breath  of 
wind  abroad,  nor  any  sound,  save  now  and  then  the  distant 
drowsy  tone  of  sheep-bells — no  sign  of  any  living  creature. 
All  seemed  as  if  swallowed  up  by  the  silence  almost  of  a 
desert  in  a  land  swelling  with  fruitfulness.  The  sun  smiled 
everywhere,  calling  back  smiles  again  from  flowers  and  whited 
walls,  and  yet  there  was  over  the  whole  a  quiet,  strong 
solemnity,  as  in  a  huge  cathedral.  The  still  air  glowed  and 
shimmered  in  the  heat,  the  sky  was  cloudless  as  a  tropic 
heaven,  but  the  shadows  were  full  of  living,  many-toned 
colour,  as  in  far  northern  lands.  A  land  of  dreams  laid  out 


KATYA  LISTENS  113 

between  great  rivers,  the  highway  from  West  to  East,  the 
boundary  of  two  continents — Ukraine,  Ukraine  ! 

Towards  evening  the  carriage  drew  up  before  the  steps  of 
Patkanovo.  Both  Alexander  Aristidovitch  and  Maria  Pe- 
trovna  came  out  to  meet  their  guests,  but  scarcely  had  Katya 
been  conducted  to  her  room  by  her  hostess  when  the  latter 
disappeared  completely,  seeming  to  vanish  into  a  darkness 
of  which  she  was  herself  a  part.  Not  until  supper  did  she 
reappear,  taking  her  place  at  the  table  with  a  silently  eloquent 
prayer  to  the  company  to  ignore  the  unhappy  fact  of  her 
presence  there.  Maria  Petrovna's  hair  was  grey,  and  her  face 
had  the  despondent  sun-starved  pallor  associated  with  poverty 
or  sickness.  The  slightest  remark  addressed  to  her  was  suffi- 
cient to  send  her  into  visible  transports  of  fear,  and  Katya 
was  at  last  obliged  to  refrain  from  looking  in  her  direction 
for  fear  of  frightening  her  away. 

Alexander  Shipagin,  on  the  other  hand,  talked  loudly  and 
insistently,  with  a  deep,  grumbling  voice,  which  contrasted 
strangely  with  the  exaggerated  piety  of  his  words.  He  was 
the  wreck  of  a  giant.  His  great  hands  trembled  ceaselessly, 
his  hair  and  beard,  both  long,  were  pitifully  thinned,  and  of 
an  indeterminate  yellowish  hue.  His  mighty  frame  was 
loosely  knit,  his  eyes  flickering  and  weak. 

"  You  should  read  Dostoiefski,"  he  said  to  Prince  Rilinski. 
"  Tolstoy  is  nothing  compared  with  him,  or  Gogol  either.  I 
pray  for  the  soul  of  Nikolai  Gogol,  in  God's  holy  keeping. 
He  was  a  scorner  of  holy  things,  my  friend,  and  on  the  Last 
Day,  when  he  stands  before  the  throne  of  our  Father  in 
heaven,  he  will  be  called  to  account  for  the  stain  which  he 
has  set  on  the  honour  of  Russia." 

"  Of  modern  writers,"  began  the  Prince,  "  I  think  Tur- 
genief  .  .  ." 

"  Then  you  do  not  know  Dostoiefski.  Take,  for  instance, 
that  scene  in  '  Crime  and  Punishment,'  where  the  murderer 
and  the  prostitute  are  seen  sitting  together  bent  over  the 
Holy  Bible.  Sergei  Arkadievitch,  my  soul  has  bled  at  those 
words;  I  have  suffered  the  tortures  of  hell  fire  when  I  have 
tried  to  express  the  thoughts  with  which  they  fill  me.  Ah, 
Sergei,  how  weak  and  pitiful  a  thing  is  wretched  man  beside 
the  power  of  our  Almighty  Father  !  To  some  He  gives,  in 


H4  KATYA 

His  infinite  wisdom,  the  fulness  of  grace;  others  are  but  as 
miserable  worms,  writhing  in  the  dust  before  His  throne." 

"  How  is  Vladimir  Alexandrovitch  ?"  asked  Katya,  coming 
to  the  rescue  at  last.  She  felt  she  could  not  stand  much 
more  of  this  herself. 

"  I  do  not  know,  Ekaterina  Sergeievna.  My  son,  alas  ! 
lives  for  this  world,  and  despises  the  high  communion  with 
God.  But  his  mother,  no  doubt,  will  know  how  far  he  has 
yet  reached  on  the  way  that  leadeth  to  destruction."  His 
eyes  flashed  with  gloating  malice  as  he  launched  these  last 
words  at  his  wife.  He  seemed  to  know  that  he  could 
not  hurt  her  more  than  by  drawing  her  into  the  conver- 
sation. 

Maria  Petrovna  was  trembling  all  over,  desiring  desperately 
some  miraculous  means  to  vanishment.  The  long  pause  that 
followed  was  painful  to  the  guests,  but  Alexander  Shipagin 
was  evidently  enjoying  it  intensely. 

"  In  the  Crimea,"  came  the  answer  at  last,  in  a  scarcely 
audible  whisper. 

Katya  was  about  to  ask  if  he  were  alone,  but  checked  her- 
self in  time.  No  one  could  help  feeling  pity  for  the  poor 
frightened  creature  who  was  this  man's  wife. 

The  party  were  waited  on  at  table  by  an  old  servant-woman, 
who  looked  as  though  she  had  just  come  in  from  the  stables. 
The  food  was  such  as  peasants  serve  at  their  wedding  and 
funeral  feasts,  and  there  was  not  a  cup  or  dish  but  bore  the 
marks  of  rough  handling  and  sketchy  washing.  Alexander 
Shipagin  drank  innumerable  glasses  of  vodka,  breaking  the 
flow  of  his  pious  discourse  at  the  most  unexpected  moments 
in  order  to  attend  to  his  enormous  thirst.  Katya  nearly 
laughed  aloud  when  he  punctuated  "  Our  Father  in  ... 
heaven,"  with  a  dram  inserted  after  the  preposition,  spilling 
half  the  liquor  over  his  shaking  fingers. 

When  the  meal  was  over,  Prince  Rilinski  and  his  host 
retired  to  talk  business.  Maria  Petrovna  ushered  Katya 
into  the  drawing-room,  where  the  lamps  were  lit,  and  a 
number  of  books  scattered  about,  whereupon  she  retired  and 
did  not  reappear. 

Katya  took  a  book  and  tried  to  occupy  herself.  It  hap- 
pened to  be  Dostoiefski's  "  Brothers  Karamasof,"  which  she 
had  long  wished  to  read.  She  soon  gave  it  up,  however. 


KATYA  LISTENS  115 

The  pages  were  soiled  with  grease-spots,  there  were  crumbs 
between  the  leaves,  and  the  volume  was  distinctly  redolent 
of  vodka. 

Katya  felt  that  a  week  in  this  house  would  drive  her  mad. 
She  could  quite  understand  that  Vladimir  Shipagin  preferred 
to  amuse  himself  elsewhere.  What  business  could  her  father 
possibly  have  with  this  man  ?  What  meant  all  these  mysteri- 
ous trafnckings  that  rilled  the  air  about  her,  and  from  which 
she  was  so  carefully  excluded  ? 

She  got  up  and  looked  about  her.  The  place  was  full  of 
dull  old  furniture  in  mean  decay,  not  a  single  object  of  any 
distinct  character,  nothing  that  one  could  remember  an  hour. 
On  the  wall  were  pictures  of  the  three  last  Tsars,  with  their 
families — cheap  lithographs  and  oleographs  such  as  are  sold 
in  thousands  all  over  Russia.  In  a  chipped  vase  stood  a 
bunch  of  faded  grasses  that  now  resembled  a  discarded  broom. 
From  one  pair  of  windows  the  curtains  were  missing;  a 
crooked  cornice-pole  still  hung,  with  naked  skeleton  rings,  to 
mark  the  place  where  they  had  been.  And  the  patches  of 
light  which  the  lamps  shed  on  the  ceiling  were  spotted  every- 
where with  flies. 

Through  the  glass  doors  leading  out  to  the  garden  she  could 
see  a  glimpse  of  an  overgrown  wilderness  where  the  ghost  of 
a  path  melted  vaguely  into  rank  lawn.  At  a  short  distance 
from  the  house  the  view  was  shut  off  by  old  birches  and 
poplars.  The  garden  looked  even  more  desolate  than  the 
house.  Not  for  anything  would  Katya  have  ventured  out 
there  alone. 

Open  doors  on  either  side  led  from  the  lighted  drawing- 
room  to  other  apartments.  Katya  had  noticed  on  her  arrival 
that  the  house  was  low  and  unusually  long.  There  might  be 
twenty  rooms  or  more  along  its  one  face,  and  if  all  were  as 
cheerful  as  the  one  in  which  she  found  herself  at  present 
PatkanoVo  must  be  a  desirable  residence  indeed  ! 

Looking  through  one  of  the  dark  openings  that  gave  on  to 
the  adjoining  rooms,  she  could  faintly  distinguish  the  out- 
lines of  furniture  and  picture-frames.  She  ventured  in,  and 
commenced  to  explore  in  silence.  There  was  no  earthly 
reason  why  she  should  move  on  tiptoe,  but  she  found  herself 
doing  so  ere  she  was  aware,  following  some  feeling  induced 
by  the  silent  darkness  of  the  place,  where  somewhere  or 


n6  KATYA 

other  Maria  Petrovna  had  vanished  like  a  shadow  among 
shadows. 

As  Katya  entered  the  third  room  she  became  aware  of 
narrow  flickering-  lines  of  light  on  the  wall  some  distance 
beyond.  The  lines  formed  a  clean  quadrilateral  figure,  some- 
what suggestive  of  an  invisible  picture  in  a  thin  phosphor- 
escent frame,  partly  extinguished  at  irregular  intervals  in 
different  places,  but  always  reappearing,  fixed,  as  it  were,  to 
the  wall. 

The  temptation  to  investigate  was  irresistible.  Passing 
through  two  more  rooms,  dark  and  desolate  as  the  rest,  she 
halted  suddenly  at  the  sound  of  voices,  and  moved  forward 
again  with  increased  caution. 

"Papa's  voice,  and  Alexander  Aristidovitch,"  she  breathed 
to  herself.  But  there  was  nothing  to  be  seen — only  the 
flickering  thin-lined  square  on  the  wall. 

She  crept  closer,  the  desire  to  hear  and  know  mastering  for 
the  moment  all  else. 

She  soon  discovered  that  the  phosphorescent  frame  was 
nothing  more  than  the  narrow  space  surrounding  a  loosely- 
fitting  trap  in  the  wall,  through  which  shone  the  light  from 
the  room  beyond.  The  Prince  and  his  host  were  talking. 
Katya  could  hear  every  word. 

"  A  thousand  roubles  or  so — I  don't  say  no."  Shipagin 
was  speaking.  "  But  I  swear  to  you,  Sergei  Arkadievitch,  as 
I  hope  for  forgiveness,  the  sum  you  speak  of  is  impossible — 
impossible." 

"  You  surprise  me,  Alexander  Aristidovitch.  I  have  ex- 
plained the  situation.  You  must  see  that  it  is  a  matter  of 
life  and  death  to  me  and  mine.  We  have  been  friends  from 
our  childhood,  and  I  appeal  to  you  for  help  in  this  extremity. 
You  offer  me  a  beggar's  alms  !" 

"  Do  not  forget  the  higher  things,  Sergei  Arkadievitch. 
The  things  of  this  world  are  as  nothing — the  soul,  the  soul  is 
all.  Remember  the  words  of  comfort :  '  Whoso  abaseth  him- 
self shall  be  exalted.'  Believe  me  when  I  say  that  I,  here  in 
this  room,  have  suffered  agonies  beside  which  your  troubles 
now  are  slight.  And  what  did  I  seek  ?  Did  I  kneel  down 
and  worship  the  golden  calf,  or  fall,  as  you,  into  the  snares  of 
earthly  pomp  and  splendour  ?  No,  Sergei  Rilinski — no  1  If 
I  could  but  form  one  verse  to  carry  the  true  message  of  those 


KATYA  LISTENS  117 

heavenly  regions  which  my  soul  perceives,  I  could  die  happy. 
But  I  cannot.  My  God,  my  God  !  Thou  knowest  that  my 
punishment  is  greater  than  I  can  bear  !" 

"  But  this  is  madness,  Alexander.  Where  can  such  fancies 
lead  you  ?" 

"  At  times  there  comes  a  message  from  above  that  the 
hour  is  at  hand,  and  then  I  retire  into  my  closet,  Sergei,  and 
there  mortify  the  flesh.  My  soul  is  filled  with  strength;  I 
feel  the  beauty  of  the  sublime  about  me,  and  poetry — such 
poetry  as  yet  no  earthly  ear  has  heard !  But  when  I  strive 
to  clothe  these  visions  in  words  they  vanish,  and  in  their 
place  come  hateful  monsters  trooping  forth  from  every  corner. 
It  is  horrible,  horrible  !  And  to  me  who  suffer  thus  you  come 
with  your  vain  troubles  of  temporal  things  !" 

"  Alexander,  you  have  yourself  a  wife  and  child.  Do  you 
think  that  I  would  have  come  to  you  on  this  errand  if  the 
happiness  of  my  dear  ones  were  not  more  to  me  than  my 
own  ?" 

"  A  wife  and  child,  you  say  ?  Have  I  wife  and  child  ? 
Are  you  sure  of  that,  Sergei  ?  Are  they  not  rather  the 
enemies  that  compass  me  about,  seeking  to  destroy  the 
noblest  that  is  in  me — my  power  for  art,  my  soul's  communion 
with  God  ?" 

"  Alexander,  I  speak  to  you  as  a  friend.  Give  up  this 
fearful  drinking  before  it  is  too  late.  For  myself,  I  see  now 
that  I  have  troubled  you  and  Maria  Petrovna  to  no  purpose." 

Katya  turned  from  her  chink,  and  prepared  to  steal  away. 
A  strange  fear,  like  a  waking  nightmare,  was  upon  her.  But 
as  she  moved  her  eyes,  now  grown  accustomed  to  the  dark, 
she  caught  the  vague  outline  of  a  human  form  sitting  motionless 
by  her  side.  She  clasped  one  hand  to  her  breast,  and  was 
about  to  shriek  aloud,  when  trembling  fingers  closed  warmly 
on  her  arm,  and  a  voice  whispered : 

"  Sh  !     For  God's  sake,  say  nothing  !" 

It  was  Maria  Petrovna. 

"  I  sit  here  often,  in  case  he  should  do  anything  desperate. 
Quietly — go  quietly  ..." 

They  stole  silently  through  the  dark,  empty  rooms. 

"  And  I  thought  perhaps  your  father  had  come  to  speak 
with  him  about  Vladimir.  ...  I  wanted  so  to  know  .  .  . 
and  you  have  all  been  so  good  to  him.  Heaven  bless  you  for 


n8  KATYA 

it.  ...    And  he  tells  me  nothing.  ...     I  can  only  sit  and 
listen  ..." 

The  little  pitiful  shadow  took  Katya's  hand  and  kissed  it. 
Next  moment  she  was  gone  away  to  some  new  hiding-place 
in  the  great  lonely  house. 

Next  morning  the  slatternly  maid  brought  Katya  a  little 
note  in  French  from  her  father  asking  her  to  be  in  readiness 
to  start  for  home  as  early  as  possible.  Mikailo  was  already 
preparing  for  the  return  journey.  With  ordinary  care,  the 
horses  could  easily  manage  without  further  rest. 

Prince  Rilinski  took  leave  of  Alexander  Shipagin  in  few 
words.  Towards  Maria  Petrovna,  however,  he  showed  that 
courtly  and  delicate  kindliness  which  was  always  at  his  com- 
mand. With  cordial  sincerity  he  reminded  her  that  he  and 
his,  not  least  his  wife,  would  be  delighted  to  see  Vladimir 
Alexandrovitch  at  Priluka  as  soon  as  suited  himself. 

"  You  should  come  with  him,  Maria  Petrovna;  you  will  be 
most  heartily  welcome.  Anastasia  Gregorievna  would  gladly 
be  a  mother  to  your  son  as  long  as  he  is  with  us,  but  a  mother 
is  not  to  be  replaced.  You  will  please  her  and  all  of  us  by 
coming  over  to  Priluka  while  Vladimir  is  there." 

Katya  put  her  arms  round  Maria  Petrovna's  neck  and 
kissed  her.  "  Come,"  she  said,  "  and  let  us  be  kind  to  you 
a  little." 

Maria  Petrovna  was  sorely  tempted  to  run  away.  She  did 
not  know  whether  it  were  fear  or  shame  or  thankfulness  that 
filled  her  eyes  with  tears. 

Mikailo  drove  off  at  a  sharp  trot.  Neither  Prince  Rilinski 
nor  his  daughter  turned  to  look  back  at  Patkanovo. 

Katya  took  her  father's  hand.  He  made  no  movement, 
but  sat  looking  straight  ahead,  visibly  troubled.  Mikailo  on 
the  box  was  talking  apologetically  to  his  loved  blacks.  It 
was  hard  on  them,  he  admitted,  to  have  such  a  hard  day's 
work  again  after  so  short  a  rest,  but  they  should  have  all  the 
rest  they  wanted  once  they  got  home.  "  On,  on,  my  children," 
he  called  in  hoarse  encouragement ;  "  we're  soon  at  Priluka  !" 

Katya  had  felt  horribly  afraid  the  night  before,  but  on 
awaking  in  the  morning  everything  looked  different.  She 
knew  now  that  some  great  peril  threatened  Priluka  and  all 
she  loved,  and  to  know  it  and  share  in  the  struggle  was  in- 


KATYA  LISTENS  119 

finitely  better  than  the  dreadful  inactivity  of  looking  on  and 
yet  seeing  nothing,  knowing  that  the  others  were  fighting 
hard  against  something  strange  and  fearsome  that  lay  in 
wait  about  their  home.  It  was  cruel  of  papa  and  the  others 
to  treat  her  like  a  little  girl.  Could  they  not  see  how  she  had 
grown  in  every  way  during  the  last  year  ?  Could  they  not 
understand  what  longing  filled  her — longing  uncontrollable 
as  it  was  indefinable  for  herself  ?  There  was  that  in  her 
blood  that  seemed  to  press  against  her  heart — a  need  of 
something,  a  blind  seeking,  which  at  times  could  make  her 
faint  and  giddy.  What  it  was  she  did  not  know — only  that 
it  was  eternal  unrest,  an  ever-present  sickness,  always  and 
for  ever  a  longing.  .  .  . 

"  On,  little  brothers,  on;  we're  soon  at  Priluka !" 
Her  father  would  never  have  made  that  miserable  journey 
to  Patkanovo  save  in  a  case  of  direst  need.  Poor  father  !  so 
clean  and  handsome  and  eloquent,  in  such  surroundings  !  A 
splendid  man,  a  true  aristocrat.  Not  like  the  wretched  little 
Parisians,  who  never  uttered  anything  but  malicious  epigrams 
against  their  neighbours.  Yesterday  he  had  spoken  kindly 
of  Mandelberg — Mandelberg  !  And  then  his  manner  towards 
poor  Maria  Petrovna — the  old-fashioned  courtly  grace,  and 
yet  so  full  of  sincerity  and  warm  kindliness.  It  was  a  pity 
he  dyed  his  hair  and  beard.  He  would  look  so  nice  with 
quite  grey  hair.  ...  "  I'll  tell  him  so  one  day,"  thought 
Katya.  "  I  don't  care  if  he  does  get  angry.  Oh,  they  shall 
see  if  I  am  still  a  little  girl !" 

"  On,  on,  little  lambs;  we're  soon  at  Priluka  !" 
If  only  her  father  had  not  kept  everything  so  secret  all 
along  it  might  have  been  better.  It  was  all  Mandelberg,  of 
course.  Something  to  do  with  Mandelberg  and  a  horrible 
lot  of  money.  Ah  !  Mandelberg  was  easy  enough  to  deal 
with.  And  it  could  not  have  been  so  difficult  to  raise  the 
money  at  Patkanovo  if  only  papa  had  gone  about  it  in  the 
right  way  and  at  the  right  time.  Maria  Petrovna  and  her 
son  needed  help — help  to  free  them  from  the  tyranny  of  that 
horrible,  dirty  old  madman.  If  she  had  only  known  .  .  . 
that  affair  with  Elena  Dolgoruki  and  Vladimir  Shipagin 
could  have  been  managed  very  differently  .  .  .  perhaps  ic 
would  have  been  better  never  to  have  let  him  begin  with  her. 
Still  .  .  .  Katya  was  ready  to  make  sacrifices.  Never 


120  KATYA 

before  had  she  felt  herself  so  unselfish  and  at  the  same  time 
so  ready  for  war.  But  Vladimir  Shipagin  was  an  empty- 
headed  boor,  and  conceited  into  the  bargain — a  thorough 
good-for-nothing.  And  now,  after  her  visit  to  Patkanovo, 
she  could  not  think  of  him  save  as  inseparably  connected 
with  that  dismal,  ghastly  place,  which  had  no  right  to  exist 
here  in  Ukraine. 

Petya  was  no  use  either,  in  spite  of  all  his  brave  helpfulness. 
"  A  good  boy  with  a  big  heart,"  her  mother  had  once  said, 
and  it  was  true;  but  it  was  doubtful  whether  he  would  ever 
be  more.  He  had  not  grown  in  the  last  year,  as  Katya 
herself  had  done ;  far  from  it. 

There  was  trouble  to  be  faced  and  fought.  This  was  not 
like  in  Paris,  where  Vasili  Miliukin  and  his  wife  toiled  and 
managed  from  morning  to  night  for  some  vague  and  incom- 
prehensible object — something  which,  at  all  events,  was  not 
their  own.  "  Life  and  death  to  me  and  mine."  Katya  heard 
again  her  father's  voice,  and  she  whispered  to  herself,  as 
though  in  answer:  "  Don't  be  afraid,  papa;  we  are  young  and 
strong,  and  we  will  help." 

"  Papa  " — she  broke  silence  suddenly,  and  Prince  Rilinski 
started — "  Papa,  is  General  Karatayef  very  rich  ?" 

"  Good  Heavens !  child,  what — why  do  you  ask  ?"  He 
stared  at  her  in  surprise,  almost  in  fear.  "  What  do  you 
mean  ?  How  could  you  ..." 

"  Why,  is  there  anything  strange  in  that,  papa  ?  I  only 
wanted  to  know  if  General  Karatayef  was  rich — richer,  for 
instance,  than  Alexander  Shipagin  ?" 

"  What  is  in  your  thoughts,  Katya  ?  What  are  you  think- 
ing of,  that  you  ask  such  questions  ?" 

"  Well,  you  might  answer  me,  I  think.  There's  nothing 
strange  about  it  that  I  can  see." 

"  I  think  he  is  rich,  very  rich,  and  he  is  a  man  of  great 
influence  in  financial  circles." 
"  Thank  you,  papa." 

Both  were  silent  again.  The  Prince  was  thinking — won- 
dering. Again  she  had  managed,  in  some  strange  fashion  of 
her  own,  to  get  at  the  root  of  the  matter,  just  as  she  had  done 
about  Mandelberg  and  the  family  jewels.  What  did  she 
know  ?  What  could  she  have  heard  or  seen  ?  He  wished  he 
had  never  brought  her  on  this  miserable  errand  to  that  place 


NIKI  IS  DISMISSED  121 

of  ill  omen.     Better  have  been  alone  with  his  misery  and 
fear.  .  .  . 

"  On,  on,  little  friends;  we're  soon  at  Priluka  !" 
Katya  felt  wretched  to  the  verge  of  tears.  Never  a  soul 
that  understood  her,  never  one  that  thought  and  felt  in 
sympathy  with  her.  Always  they  seemed  to  glide  away  from 
her,  just  when  she  felt  herself  so  closely  drawn  to  them,  and 
only  wished  that  they  might  know  how  she  was  striving  to 
help  them.  No  one,  no  one  that  knew  how  all  her  heart  was 
longing  to  love  and  be  loved. 

"  Faster,  Mikailo,  faster;  let  us  get  home  !" 


CHAPTER  X 

NIKI    IS    DISMISSED 

TATIANA  FEODOROVNA  felt  herself  aggrieved  at  the  sudden 
order  to  lay  the  table  all  over  again  at  the  last  moment. 
Moreover,  as  far  as  the  two  unexpected  late  arrivals  were 
concerned,  the  table  might  just  as  well  not  have  been  laid 
at  all.  Neither  Prince  Sergei  nor  Katya  ate  anything,  and 
the  Princess  looked  as  though  she  had  been  crying  again. 
All  that  Tatiana  Feodorovna  heard  as  to  the  visit  to  Patkanovo 
was  a  single  remark  of  Katya's:  "  You  have  no  idea  what  a 
horrible  place  it  is."  Then  the  Princess  had  said  something 
in  French,  and  no  further  information  was  thereafter  to  be 
gleaned  on  the  subject.  However,  no  doubt  Mikailo  would 
be  able  to  tell  her  something. 

After  dinner  the  Prince  sat  on  the  veranda  with  his  wife; 
the  young  people  were  drifting  aimlessly  about  the  lawn. 
Katya  had  not  hit  upon  anything  for  them  to  do,  and  here  at 
Priluka  they  were  all  so  accustomed  to  follow  her  lead  that 
they  could  find  nothing  to  do  without  her. 

The  Princess  came  to  the  rescue.  "  Would  not  Sonya  like 
to  play  to  us  a  little  ?  And  perhaps  Petya  would  sing.  You 
can  be  in  the  drawing-room — only  don't  make  too  much 
noise.  And  we  will  sit  here  and  listen,  papa  and  I." 

"  And  Niki  and  I,  too,"  said  Sasha.  "  Come  along,  Niki, 
we'll  sit  on  the  steps,  and  listen  to  the  children  making 
music." 


122  KATYA 

Katya  had  a  slight  headache,  and  went  off  by  herself  for  a 
stroll  in  the  park. 

Nikolai  Karatayef  did  not  listen  after  all.  He  was  glad 
that  it  was  not  Sonya  who  sang.  He  loved  her  voice,  but  it 
made  him  melancholy  to  hear,  especially  now,  this  summer, 
reminding  him  as  it  did  of  that  time  of  doubt  and  indecision 
which  had  shamed  him,  in  his  own  eyes  at  least.  There  was 
perhaps  also  something  of  conscience  that  wakened  in  him 
at  the  sound  of  Sonya's  voice;  and  he  would  not  let  himself  fall 
back  into  that  slough  of  painful  thought.  There  had  been 
enough  of  hesitant  wavering;  he  would  show  himself  and 
others  that  he  was  free  now  and  determined  as  the  best 
of  them. 

Again  this  evening  he  had  felt  the  toils  of  weak  procrasti- 
nation. Katya  and  her  father  had  returned  twenty-four 
hours  before  anyone  expected  to  see  them,  thus  cutting  short 
the  respite  he  had  allowed  himself  before  taking  the  final  step. 
If  he  were  to  prove  himself  a  man,  he  must  act  now — every 
moment  brought  him  nearer  to  the  ultimate  issue.  He  had 
caught  himself  listening  to  the  voice  within  him  that  sought 
to  justify  a  waiting  till  to-morrow;  the  unexpected  return 
was  a  breach  of  the  ordered  programme.  He  was  in  nowise 
bound  to  shift  his  plans  and  follow.  But  he  refused  to  let 
himself  be  led  by  craven  sophistry;  further  dallying  could  not 
but  make  him  appear  worthless  in  her  eyes  as  in  his  own. 
She  had  come  back  from  Paris  lovelier  and  more  desirable 
than  ever ;  there  was  a  touch  of  earnest  added  to  the  sprightly 
mirthfulness  and  unwearied  agility  of  body  and  mind  which 
egged  him  on  like  touches  of  a  whip.  If  it  were  true  that  she 
had  written  to  Petya,  while  he  himself  had  not  received  even 
a  word  of  greeting  through  Sasha — if  it  were  true  !  Then 
what  use  to  ask ;  what  use  to  entreat  ?  He  had  been  too  heavy 
and  slow  in  his  pursuit. 

He  rose  suddenly  from  his  seat. 

"  Going,  Niki  ?     Where  to  ?"  asked  Sasha. 

"  Only  down  to  the  lake  and  back.  I'll  be  here  again 
directly." 

He  strode  through  the  park  searching  for  Katya,  and 
trying  not  to  feel  the  heated  blood  that  throbbed  in  his 
temples  and  about  his  heart. 

He  found  her  sitting  on  the  seat  where  he  himself  had  sat 


NIKI  IS  DISMISSED  123 

once,  watching  her  in  the  moonlight,  and  longing  for  the 
courage  to  grasp  and  hold  her. 

Katya  rose  as  he  appeared,  and  called  to  him. 

"  Sit  with  me  here  a  little,  Nikolai  Nikolaievitch.  I  want 
someone  near  me  this  evening."  «j 

Both  were  silent  for  a  while,  as  though  each  knew  that 
every  word  spoken  would  weigh  heavy  in  the  scales  of  fate. 
Their  eyes  did  not  meet,  nor  their  hands  touch,  yet  each  felt 
way  to  the  other. 

"  Will  you  be  angry  if  I  ask  you  something,  Ekaterina 
Sergeievna  ?" 

"  You  cannot  make  me  angry,  I  think,  but  you  must  not 
make  me  feel  sorry — not  this  evening." 

"  Did  you  write  to  Petya  Orloff  from  Paris  ?" 

"  Yes,  two  letters." 

He  rose  as  if  to  go;  she  laid  a  hand  on  his  arm. 

"  Why  do  you  ask  me  that  ?" 

"  Because  if  it  is  so,  then  I  have  nothing  more  to  hope  for. 
You  sent  not  even  a  word  to  me  by  Sasha." 

"  I  never  wrote  to  Sasha.  It  wasn't  true,  when  I  said  so 
the  other  day." 

"  Then  why  did  you  say  it  ?  You  don't  know  how  it  hurt 
me.  But  I  have  no  right  to  weary  you  with  what  hurts  me. 
I'll  go  and  send  Petya  to  you  if  you  feel  lonely." 

"  I  asked  you  before  not  to  make  me  sorry." 

"  I  have  as  little  power,  I  think,  to  make  you  sorry  as  to 
make  you  glad,  Ekaterina  Sergeievna." 

"  Have  you  ever  tried  to  make  me  glad  ?  Answer  me  that, 
Nikolai  Nikolaievitch,  honestly,  as  I  have  answered  you. 
Have  you  always  been  true  to  me  ?" 

The  boy's  cheeks  burned ;  he  dared  not  lift  his  eyes.  "  No," 
he  whispered,  "no  ...  but  how  could  you  see  ?  .  .  ." 

"  Because  I  care  for  you." 

"  Do  you  mean  that,  Katya,  or  .  .  ." 

"  I  mean  it,  Niki." 

"  Then  why  did  you  write  to  Petya  and  not  to  me  ?" 

"  He  asked  me  to.     You  never  did." 

"  But  do  you  not — love  him,  then  ?" 

"  No,  Niki;  I  think  it  must  be  you." 

"  Ah  !    Thank  God  !     Katya,  Katya,  my  little  queen  !" 

He  spoke  almost  humbly  at  first,  but  his  voice  rose  to 


124  KATYA 

triumph  as  he  took  her  in  his  arms,  almost  beside  himself  in  a 
passion  of  relief  and  joy. 

Katya  freed  herself,  and  both  stood  panting.  Then  she  laid 
her  head  on  his  shoulder,  and  looked  up  at  him. 

"  Will  you  now  be  afraid,  Niki  ...  of  Petya  ...  or  Farring- 
ham,  when  he  comes  ?" 

"  I'm  not  afraid  of  anyone  now  that  I  have  you,  Katya." 

"  But,  Niki,  you  know,  when  you  are  sent  abroad,  we  won't 
go  to  places  like  Paris  and  London  and  all  that;  we  must  be 
somewhere  where  it  is  more  like  Russia,  Ukraine,  and  Priluka 
— mustn't  we  ?" 

"  It  has  always  been  my  dream  to  go  to  the  Balkans,  and 
now,  with  you,  Katya,  my  little  Princess.  .  .  .  They  sing 
your  name  in  the  Slav  songs  there,  I  know,  just  as  Mikailo 
sings  of  the  Cossacks." 

"  You  are  strong,  Niki,  I  think.  And  I  am  glad,  for  I  need 
you.  I  have  longed  for  you,  even  before  I  knew  or  under- 
stood. The  year  has  been  so  long." 

"  Katya,  let  us  go  up  to  the  others — we  must  tell  your 
father  and  mother,  and  Sasha." 

"  No,  wait ;  let  me.  Papa  is  so  worried  just  now ;  you  don't 
know.  But  we  will  help  him,  won't  we,  Niki  ?" 

"Oh,  if  I  only  could  !     I  owe  you  all  so  much.  .  .  ." 

"  Will  you  promise  me  not  to  breathe  a  word  of  what  we 
have  said  to  each  other  this  evening — not  to  Sasha  or  Sonya 
or  Petya,  until  I  tell  you  ?" 

"I— I  don't  know — it  seems  so  strange,  especially 
Sasha.  .  .  ." 

She  stamped  her  foot  impatiently.  "  Niki,  will  you 
promise  ?" 

"  Since  you  wish  it,  yes.     But  how  long  is  it  to  be  ?" 

"  Wait  and  see.  Now  I  will  go  by  myself  and  tell  mama, 
and  you  can  talk  to  papa.  Remember,  Niki,  he  is  old,  and  has 
many  troubles  just  now.  Be  kind  to  him — for  my  sake.  We 
will  meet  here  afterwards;  if  I  am  not  here,  wait.  Give  me  a 
kiss,  you  strong  Niki — so — now  go  !" 

"  Mama,"  said  Katya,  when  she  had  carried  her  mother 
off  from  the  others  into  Anastasia  Gregorievna's  own  boudoir. 
"  Mama,  I  must  tell  you  everything  at  once,  and  you  must 
be  nice  and  kind  as  you  always  are,  and  understand  me.  I 


NIKI  IS  DISMISSED  125 

love  Niki  Karatayef,  and  he  asked  me  this  evening,  and  we 
are  engaged  1" 

"  Katya,  what  do  you  mean,  child  !  .  .  .  And  I  thought 
.  .  .  oh,  it's  too  bad  of  you  to  play  such  tricks  when  you 
know  how  your  father  and  I  .  .  ." 

"  Why  must  it  always  be  tricks,  everything  I  do  ?"  Katya 
had  not  expected  her  mother  to  take  the  news  like  this. 
She  felt  suddenly  inclined  to  cry. 

"  You  do  not  mean  to  say  you  are  in  earnest,  child  ?" 

"  Oh,  mother,  how  can  you  be  so  cruel  1"  Katya  flung 
herself  face  downwards,  on  the  divan,  and  gave  her  tears  full 
way.  The  anxiety  and  excitement  of  the  last  two  days  had 
been  too  much  for  her ;  she  needed  the  relief. 

"  Katya,  answer  me,  child;  is  it  true  ?" 

"  Yes,  mother,  and  we  love  each  other,  and  I  know  I  have 
done  it  for  my  own  happiness;  but  it  was  to  help  you  too.  .  .  ." 
The  words  came  in  sobbing  gasps;  she  kept  her  face  still 
buried  in  the  cushions. 

"  Katya,  this  will  be  a  death-blow  to  your  father.  And  I 
always  thought.  .  .  ." 

"  Oh,  is  there  nobody  that  ever  thinks  of  me  !" 

"  There,  there,  child,  calm  yourself  a  little.  You  are 
excited  and  nervous.  I  have  seen  for  a  long  time  that  some- 
thing was  the  matter;  lie  down  and  rest  a  little,  dearest,  and 
let  us  talk  things  out,  like  we  used  to  do."  She  brushed  the 
wet  hair  away  from  the  girl's  face.  "  Of  course  we  think  of 
you,  and  we  love  you,  dear.  But  this  is  impossible,  Katya, 
utterly  impossible,  and  you  must  never  say  a  word  about  it  to 
your  father." 

"  Why  is  it  impossible  ?  Are  we  ruined  already  ?  If  you 
think  Niki  cares  for  that,  you  do  not  know  him,  and  he  will 
tell  papa  so,  if  he  has  not  already.  .  :  ." 

Princess  Rilinski  rose,  and  stood  staring  at  Katya,  aghast 
and  trembling. 

"  Has  Niki  Karatayef  gone  to  tell  your  father  of  this — now  ? 
Answer  me,  child — where  is  he  now  ?" 

"  Yes,  I  think  so.  Oh,  mother,  why  didn't  you  tell  me  all 
about  everything  long  ago,  instead  of  leaving  me  to  find 
out  ?" 

"  Child,  child,  you  don't  know  what  you  have  done.  Lie 
here  a  little — no,  go  up  to  bed  now.  I  must  see  your  father." 


126  KATYA 

"  Mother,  will  you  not  bless  me,  as  you  always  do,  and  say 
good-night." 

The  Princess  made  the  sign  of  the  cross  over  her  daughter's 
head,  and  kissed  her  on  forehead  and  cheeks. 

"  For  both  of  us — for  Niki  and  me,"  whispered  Katya. 

"  There,  child,  go  to  bed  now,  and  try  to  calm  yourself  a 
little.  Ah,  your  poor,  poor  father  !" 

"  Mother,  you  don't  know  how  cleverly  I  can  manage  foi 
us  all." 

But  the  Princess  was  already  in  search  of  her  husband. 

Katya  stole  out  by  another  way,  and  went  down  into  the 
park,  trying  as  she  went  to  remove  all  traces  of  tears.  She 
had  not  forgotten  that  tears  did  not  suit  her. 

Prince  Rilinski  sat  at  his  writing-table,  leaning  back  in  a 
chair.  In  one  hand  he  held  a  paper-knife,  stamped  with  the 
family  arms;  from  time  to  time  he  laid  the  blade  gently 
against  his  forehead,  or  let  it  fall  into  his  palm.  He  looked 
utterly  weary,  but  his  composure  was  perfect ;  Niki  Karatayef , 
who  was  walking  nervously  up  and  down  the  great  room, 
thought  he  had  never  seen  the  Prince  so  haughty  and  coldly 
dignified. 

"  I  am  deeply  pained,  Nikolai;  also  on  your  behalf.  You 
will  understand  that  your  stay  at  Priluka  is  now  at  an  end. 
I  do  not  mean  to  say  that  you  are  to  leave  to-morrow — or  the 
day  after — that  would  seem  remarkable.  But  you  will  find 
some  excuse  or  other  to  take  your  departure  within  the  week. 
I  leave  it  entirely  to  yourself." 

"  My  God !  Am  I,  then,  a  criminal  that  you  thrust  me 
from  your  house  because  I  love  Katya  and  she  me  ?"  Niki 
Karatayef  was  striving  to  retain  his  coolness. 

"  I  have  already  told  you,  I  think,  that  both  Anastasia 
Gregorievna  and  I  are  indebted  to  you  for  your  kindness  to 
Sasha.  You  have  been  a  good  friend  to  my  son,  Nikolai, 
and  we  have  been  fond  of  you.  And,  therefore,  you  can,  I 
hope,  take  leave  of  me  and  of  us  all  without  bitterness — as  we 
of  you.  If  ever  in  the  future  I  can  be  of  any  assistance  to 
you  in  any  way  whatever,  I  should  be  glad  if  you  would  come 
to  me,  and  let  me  see  that  you  have  forgotten  this  painful 
episode." 

"  But  why  ?  .  .  .     Prince,  all  that  you  say  only  makes  it 


NIKI  IS  DISMISSED  127 

more  and  more  difficult  for  me  to  understand  why  you  now 
turn  me  away  from  Priluka,  which  has  been  a  home  to  me, 
and  from  Katya,  whom  I  love  more  than  all.  .  .  ." 

"  It  pains  me,  Nikolai,  to  continue  this  conversation;  I  beg 
you  to  believe  that  neither  of  us  have  anything  to  gain  by  so 
doing.  My  daughter  Ekaterina  lacks  yet  two  months  of 
eighteen.  And  even  though  she  may  be  more  developed  in 
many  ways  than  other  girls  of  her  age,  she  cannot  bind  herself 
for  life.  To  take  her  by  surprise  in  this  way.  .  .  ." 

"  I  have  not  taken  her  by  surprise.  You  have  no  right  to 
say " 

"  Nikolai  Karatayef,  remember  where  you  are,  and  to 
whom  you  are  speaking." 

"  Oh,  I  know  I  am  so  much  younger,  and  that  my  father 
is  neither  the  equal  in  rank  .  .  .  nor  in  other  ways  ...  of 
Prince  Rilinski;  I  know  also  that  I  owe  you  and  all  at 
Priluka  a  gratitude  which  I  can  never  express.  .  .  .  Ever 
since  my  mother  died.  ..." 

"  You  have  nothing  to  reproach  yourself  there,  Niki;  you 
have  always  shown  yourself  grateful  for  anything  we  have 
been  able  to  do." 

"  But  I  can't  bear  to  hear  you  say  that  I  have  abused  your 
kindness,  and  taken  Katya  by  surprise.  You  know  your 
daughter  but  little,  Prince,  if  you  think  that  possible." 

"  I  have  told  you  that  our  conversation  would  not  gain  by 
being  prolonged." 

"  But  the  reason — what  reason  can  you  have  ..." 

There  came  a  knock  at  the  door,  and  Anastasia  Gregorievna 
entered. 

"  Katya  has  just  been  telling  me  about  it.  She  was  greatly 
distressed,  poor  child.  And  hearing  that  Niki  was  with  you, 
dear,  I  thought  I  ought  to  come." 

"  I  thank  you,  my  dear.  I  think  Nikolai  and  I  have  no 
more  to  say.  He  has  decided  to  leave  Priluka  within  the 
week.  There  is  no  need  to  waste  more  words  on  the  matter." 

"  You  poor  children  .  .  .  how  could  you  !"  The  Princess 
sent  Niki  a  look  that  was  full  of  kindness  and  sympathy. 
Once  she  had  satisfied  herself  that  her  husband  was  calm  and 
quiet,  her  next  thought  was  for  the  young  people  themselves. 

"But  I  cannot  leave  here;  I  will  not  leave  this  room  before 
I  have  been  told  why  it  is  I  am  to  be  treated  thus.  Anastasia 


128  KATYA 

Gregorievna,  you  have  always  been  kind  to  me;  tell  me,  what 
have  I  done — what  stain  is  on  my  name,  that  Katya  and  I 
may  not  have  each  other,  although  I  love  her  and  she  loves 
me  ?  Did  she  not  tell  you  that  she  loved  me  ?" 

"  Yes,  Niki,  she  said  so.  But  remember  you  are  both  so 
young,  and  know  so  little  of  life;  it  would  be  bitter  indeed 
for  you  and  for  us  if  you  should  find  it  was  a  mistake  after  all." 

"  That  I  can  understand  perfectly  well;  I  have  also  thought 
of  it  myself  all  this  last  year.  But,  then,  surely  it  would  be 
enough  if  you  asked  us  to  wait  a  little  before  getting  married — 
like  Sasha  and  Elisaveta.  I  should  not  be  afraid  of  waiting, 
I  should  wait  for  Katya,  never  fear,  and  now  that  I  have  her 
promise,  I  know  she  would  wait  for  me." 

"  Enough;  it  is  enough  !"  Prince  Rilinski  flung  down  his 
knife  with  an  impatient  movement.  "  Am  I  to  be  questioned 
and  judged  here  in  my  own  house  ?" 

"  Sergei,  my  dear.  .  .  ." 

"  But  do  you  not  see,  Your  Highness,  that  you  are  casting  a 
suspicion  upon  me  without  giving  me  an  opportunity  to  clear 
or  defend  myself  ?" 

"  No,  Niki,  no !"  interposed  the  Princess  hastily.  The 
boy  was  trembling  with  passion,  and  her  husband,  she  could 
see,  was  restraining  himself  with  difficulty.  "  We  think 
nothing  but  good  of  Sasha's  faithful  friend." 

"  Then  why  not  speak  ?  Let  me  know  the  truth,  however 
cruel  it  may  be.  If  you  wish  to  be  kind,  then  at  least  give 
me  something  I  can  see  and  understand." 

There  was  something  fierce,  almost  brutal,  in  his  manner; 
he  could  hardly  control  himself.  The  Princess  was  growing 
anxious;  at  any  moment  Niki  or  her  husband  might  say  or 
do  that  which  never  could  be  repaired. 

"  Niki,  be  sensible,"  she  said.  "  You  cannot  demand  to 
be  told  what  plans  Sergei  Arkadievitch  has  for  his  daughter's 
future." 

"  You  forget  that  Katya  and  I  .  .  ." 

"  Go  !"     Prince  Rilinski  pointed  to  the  door. 

"  Very  well,  I  will  go.  But  Ka.tya  I  will  have,  though  I 
tear  her  by  force  from  Priluka  !" 

The  door  crashed  to  behind  him. 

Prince  Rilinski  sat  staring  silently  at  nothing,  while  his 
wife  stroked  his  hand. 


NIKI  IS  DISMISSED  129 

"  Ruin  and  misery — and  I  have  brought  it  on  you  all, 
Anastasia.  God's  wrath  is  fallen  upon  me." 

"  Sh  !  Sergei,  my  husband,  let  us  face  it  together.  Come, 
dear,  you  need  rest.  To-morrow  you  will  be  calm;  we  can 
talk  of  what  is  to  be  done,  and  you  shall  see  it  will  be  easier 
to  bear." 

She  went  with  him  up  to  his  room.  It  was  late,  and  all  was 
silent  about  the  white  palace  with  its  roses  and  the  ivy 
climbing  round  the  high,  dark  windows. 

Nikolai  Karatayef  went  through  the  park  to  the  spot  where 
Katya  was  waiting.  He  caught  her  in  his  arms  with  a  violence 
that  made  her  tremble.  She  could  see  he  was  excited — 
furious. 

"  Katya,  your  father  turns  me  away  from  Priluka.  He 
hates  me,  and  he  will  not  tell  me  why." 

"  Sit  down  here  beside  me,  Niki,  and  be  very  quiet."  She 
smiled  up  at  him.  "  Strong  Niki.  I  am  glad  it  is  dark,  and 
you  cannot  see;  I  have  been  crying.  You  must  never  make 
me  cry,  Niki. .  .  .  No,  no,  sit  quite  still  and  tell  me  something 
I  am  going  to  ask  you." 

"  Katya,  how  can  you  be  so  calm  ?  I  tell  you  your  father 
has  sent  me  away — turned  me  from  his  door.  .  .  ." 

"  Now  you  are  like  Petya,  Niki.  There  was  something  he 
said  to  me  once,  by  the  way — that  I  should  steer,  because  I 
was  the  clever  one.  ..." 

"  Katya,  why  must  you  make  me  more  wretched  than  I  am  ?" 

"  Oh,  listen,  stupid  boy,  and  hear  what  I  have  to  say. 
Tell  me,  has  Mandelberg  much  to  do  with  your  father  ? 
Have  they  business  together,  I  mean  ?" 

"  Yes,  I  think  so.  Mandelberg  lives  in  our  house  in  the 
Konnaya,  and  all  that  I  know  of  my  father's  business  affairs 
I  have  heard  from  Mandelberg." 

"  Then  I  see  it  all !"  Katya  rose  and  clapped  her  hands 
together.  "  And  they  thought  to  hide  it  from  me  !" 

"  I  am  still  no  wiser,  Katya.  What  does  it  all  mean  ?"  He 
gazed  admiringly  at  the  girl;  her  bright  courage  was  both  a 
comfort  and  a  charm. 

"  Can't  you  see  ?  It's  all  clear  as  day.  Niki,  you  must  not 
be  so  slow  if  we  are  to  get  on  together.  Neither  papa  nor 
mama  have  anything  against  you,  Niki.  .  .  ." 

9 


130  KATYA 

"  They  said  as  much,  both  of  them." 

"  Of  course;  it's  your  father;  papa  hates  him." 

"  He  never  said  a  word  about  my  father." 

"  He  never  would.  But  I  could  have  made  him  speak  up 
for  your  father,  however  much  he  hated  him.  I  know  papa — 
it's  easy  enough  to  manage  him." 

"  Cossack,  little  Cossack  I"  Niki  could  not  refrain  from 
taking  her  in  his  arms  again. 

"  You  may  call  me  so  if  you  like — now  and  then.  But  you 
can  dare  ever  to  call  me  '  petite  Rilinski '  !" 

"  But  couldn't  you  explain  things  a  little  more  clearly, 
dear  ?" 

"  Ah  !  Papa's  affairs  with  Mandelberg  have  turned  out 
badly,  very  badly;  that  I  know,  but  never  mind  how.  And 
in  some  way  or  another  it's  critical  just  now;  that  I  have 
found  out,  too.  And  on  the  way  home  from  Patkanovo  .  .  . 
no,  I  don't  think  you  need  know  anything  about  that.  But 
after  I  had  spoken  with  mama,  and  you  with  papa,  it  was 
clear  as  day.  Your  father  is  very  rich,  and  he  has  something 
to  do  with  this  Mandelberg  business.  Now  do  you  see  ?" 

"  I  think  I  begin  to.  .  .  ." 

"  And  now  the  best  thing  you  can  do  is  to  go  to  ycur  father 
at  once,  and  get  matters  settled.  Is  he  fond  of  you  ?  Do 
you  think  he  will  be  angry  with  you  for  taking  me  ?" 

"  Katya,  you  are  splendid  !"  The  boy  was  intoxicated 
with  passion  and  admiration.  But  next  moment  he  put 
his  hands  to  his  head.  "  And  yet  somehow  I'm  half  afraid 
of  you." 

"  No,  Niki,  you  are  strong;  I  did  not  think  men  could  be 
so  strong — or  that  I  could  care  so  much  for  you." 

"  Katya,  do  you  know,  now  suddenly  I  think  of  my  mother  ? 
For  I  am  happy  now,  as  happy  as  a  man  can  be.  One  day 
I  will  tell  you  about  her." 

"  And  now  you  will  do  what  I  say  ?" 

"  I  have  spoken  to  my  father  about  you,  and  he  knows  I 
love  you.  I  can  easily  get  him  to  help  me — to  help  us  both. 
He  said  himself,  before  I  left,  that  if  your  father  or  mother 
refused  their  consent,  after  you  had  said  yes,  I  was  to  telegraph 
to  him  before  I  shot  ..." 

He  did  not  mean  to  say  so  much,  but  it  was  out  before  he 
could  think. 


NIKI  IS  DISMISSED  131 

"  Niki  " — she  crept  quite  close  to  him — "  Niki,  would  you 
have  shot  yourself  if  I  had  said  no  ?" 

"  Yes." 

"  Oh,  Niki,  I  believe  it,  I  do  !  And  I  love  you  for  it !"  She 
flung  her  arms  round  his  neck  and  held  him  close. 

"  Niki,"  she  whispered  a  moment  later,  "  there's  no  need 
for  you  to  go.  I  know  something  better.  You  just  stay 
here.  We'll  telegraph  to  your  father  to  come,  and  then  /'// 
talk  to  him  !" 

"  Very  well,  if  you  think  that's  best." 

"  Niki,  do  you  want  to  tell  Sasha  wry  much  ?" 

"  Of  course  I  do." 

"  Then  you  may  tell  him  quietly  some  time  to-morrow. 
But  not  a  word  to  any  of  the  others  !" 

"  But  when  Sasha  hears  how  your  father  and  mother 
have  taken  it.  .  .  ." 

"  Then  you  have  only  to  say  it  is  all  settled.  But  we've 
no  time  to  lose,  Niki;  you  must  go  in  at  once  to  Dubni  and 
telegraph  to  your  father." 

"  The  telegraph  office  is  shut." 

"  Never  mind.  Hand  it  in  at  the  railway-station,  and  it 
will  be  sent  off  first  thing  to-morrow  morning.  Remember, 
every  hour  is  of  importance.  And  if  your  father  does  not  get 
the  telegram  early  to-morrow,  he  won't  be  able  to  get  here 
by  the  day  after.  Hurry,  Niki,  we  don't  know  what  may 
happen  meantime." 

She  led  him  through  the  park  to  the  stables,  silencing  the 
dogs  that  came  dashing  up  out  of  the  dark  to  turn  and  follow 
expectantly  at  the  heels  of  their  mistress.  Stopping  outside 
a  little  white  thatched  house,  with  nodding  rows  of  hollyhocks 
and  sunflowers,  she  knocked  at  the  window. 

"  Mikailo,  it  is  I,  Katya;  get  up !  I  want  Murad  now,  at  once!" 

"  I  am  coming,  little  lamb,  I  am  coming  !" 

And  a  few  moments  later  he  appeared,  half  dressed,  and 
with  his  long  hair  and  beard  in  disorder. 

"  Now,  Mikailo,  first  of  all,  if  you  dare  to  breathe  a  word 
to  a  soul.  .  .  ." 

"  Sh  !  Little  lamb,  I  am  dumb.  Neither  the  old  woman 
nor  the  little  ones  shall  say  a  word.  Do  not  fear,  Barishna  !" 

"  Saddle  Murad  at  once;  Nikolai  Nikolaievitch  rides  to 
Dubni.  And  you  will  wait  up  till  he  returns." 


132  KATYA 

As  soon  as  Niki  had  mounted,  he  reached  down  a  hand  to  bid 
her  good-bye.  But  she  shook  her  head,  and,  taking  the  bridle 
rein,  led  Murad  by  little  ways  and  paths  she  knew  out  on  to 
the  broad  road  close  by  the  patch  of  grass  and  sand  where 
the  gipsy  had  told  her  fortune.  "  Happiness  and  wealth,  but 
first  a  journey  over  seven  rivers  and  through  five  towns." 

"  Ride,  Niki,  ride— I  wait  you  at  Priluka  !" 


CHAPTER  XI 

VM  VICTIS  ! 

"  I  CANNOT  understand  the  child,  Sergei;  it's  a  mystery  to 
me.  I  thought  all  along  that  Sonya  was  Niki's  favourite; 
Heaven  knows  what  she  thinks  of  it  all.  .  .  .  But  Katya  !  I 
left  her  last  night  nervous,  excited,  in  tears.  And  to-day  she 
is  as  merry  as  a  bird,  and  has  been  haymaking  with  Petya  all 
the  morning." 

"  And  Nikolai  Karatayef — have  you  seen  anything  of  him 
to-day  ?" 

"  Very  little.  He  went  off  for  a  long  walk  with  Sasha — they 
have  come  back,  but  I've  no  idea  where  they  are  now." 

"  Then,  of  course,  he's  told  Sasha  the  whole  story.  The 
end  of  it  will  be  that  I  shall  have  to  face  my  own  son  and 
answer  for  what  I  have  done.  It's  not  so  bad  with  Elisaveta; 
she  has  a  good  heart  and  a  clever  head.  But  I  dare  not  think 
what  Vasili  Pavlovitch  will  say  to  the  .  .  .  disaster  that  is 
coming." 

"  Do  not  despair  so  soon,  Sergei.  Even  though  Alexander 
Shipagin  has  refused,  we  are  not  without  friends  elsewhere." 

"  My  dear,  you  do  not  know  how  pitifully  little  one  dare 
trust  to  friends  in  need.  All  are  not  as  you,  dear." 

"  But  there  is  the  Nobles'  Bank;  there  is  the  Government, 
which  you  have  served  so  well ;  the  Empress,  who  has  always 
been  a  friend  to  you.  ..." 

"  No  !  If  it  were  a  case  of  temporary  assistance  or  support, 
I  might  perhaps  approach  the  Ministry,  or  even  Her  Majesty. 
But  speculations  that  have  proved  disastrous — you  can  see 
for  yourself  it  is  impossible.  And  the  Nobles'  Bank  is  a 
business  institution  like  any  other  bank,  not  a  charitable 


VJE  VICTIS !  133 

organization.  They  might  perhaps  help  me  to  save  some- 
thing from  the  wreck,  but  that  is  all.  No,  dear,  it  is  disaster — 
no  use  to  close  our  eyes  any  longer." 

"  Did  you  tell  Katya  anything  on  the  journey  ?  Some- 
thing she  said  yesterday  seemed  to.  .  .  ." 

"  Nothing — that  is  to  say,  in  answer  to  a  question  of  hers  I 
admitted  that  I  was  worried  about  business  matters.  And 
she  herself  spoke  to  me  several  times  in  a  manner  which 
seemed  to  indicate  that  she  knew  a  great  deal,  or,  at  any  rate, 
had  guessed  much." 

"  Could  she  have  heard  anything  at  Patkanovo  ?" 

"  I  cannot  see  how  she  could  have  done  so.  You  know 
what  a  big  place  it  is;  there  were  four  or  five  rooms  at  least 
between  the  one  where  she  sat  reading  and  the  one  in  which 
we  were,  behind  closed  doors." 

"  I  do  not  understand  the  child;  so  frank  and  open,  and 
yet  full  of  mysterious  intrigues.  And  it  is  unnatural,  her 
manner  to-day,  after  the  trouble  of  yesterday.  .  .  .  Yes,  I 
know,  my  dear,  we  were  forced  to  act  as  we  did.  .  .  .  But 
it  makes  me  nervous.  She  has  not  been  herself  for  weeks, 
and  now  this  forced  gaiety  of  tone.  .  .  ." 

There  was  a  knock  at  the  door;  Dimitri  entered  with  a 
telegram. 

"  By  horsed  messenger  from  Dubni,  Your  Highness.  The 
messenger  is  waiting." 

Prince  Rilinski  read  the  message  and  handed  it  to  his  wife. 

"  There  is  no  answer,  Dimitri.  See  that  the  messenger 
has  something  before  he  goes." 

"  Permit  me  pay  Your  Highness  short  visit  Priluka  to- 
morrow, Thursday, 

"N.  F.  KARATAYEF." 

"  Sergei — what  does  it  mean  ?" 

"  Disaster  !" 

Both  sat  for  a  while  in  silence.  Then  Anastasia  Grigorievna 
asked  quietly:  "  You  do  not  think  it  could  be  about  Katya 
and  Nikolai  ?" 

"  How  could  he  know  this  morning  in  Odessa  of  what 
happened  late  last  night  at  Priluka  ?" 

"  You  will  receive  him  ?" 

"  Yes,  my  dear.    No  one  has  yet  called  me  a  coward." 


134  KATYA 

"  Sergei,  tell  me  the  truth — what  harm  can  this  man  do  to 
you  ?" 

"  He  can  ruin  me  and  all  of  us." 

"  But  I  thought  .  .  .  you  always  said  it  was  the  Kherson 
Bank." 

"  Ostensibly,  yes.  In  reality  it  is  General  Karatayef ;  at 
any  rate  as  regards  the  greater  part  of  the  amount." 

The  Prince  paced  up  and  down  without  visible  sign  of 
emotion;  he  seemed  to  be  calling  up  some  inward  reserve  of 
strength  for  the  fight  to  come.  And  his  wife  saw  how  Katya 
at  tunes  was  like  her  father. 

"  Would  it  not  be  wise  to  ask  Mandelberg  to  be  present  ? 
He  is  a  lawyer — you  have  always  spoken  so  well  of  him.  ..." 

"  I  know  what  Mandelberg's  advice  will  be,  and  I  cannot 
foUow  it." 

"  Sasha,  then  —  for  I  suppose  it  is  impossible  for  me 
to.  .  .  ." 

Prince  Rilinski  touched  his  wife's  hair  lightly  with  his  lips. 

"  I  thank  you,  dear,  I  thank  you.  And  Heaven  reward  you 
for  your  faithfulness.  It  may  be  I  shall  need  you." 

All  day  Nikolai  Karatayef  tried  in  vain  to  steal  a  moment 
alone  with  Katya.  At  meals  she  spoke  to  him  less,  if  any- 
thing, than  usual.  Sasha,  on  the  other  hand,  she  kept  care- 
fully within  call,  and  prevented  any  possibility  of  a  meeting 
in  the  Club.  It  was  long  since  she  had  found  so  much 
to  tell  of  Paris,  and  in  all  she  told  Elisaveta  Miliukin's  name 
was  foremost.  When  she  wanted  a  rest,  she  started  Sonya  off 
with  anecdotes  from  her  stay  at  Dolgoruki's,  or  demanded  of 
Petya  detailed  descriptions  of  life  at  the  Officers'  School.  All 
found  it  very  amusing  with  the  exception  of  Niki  Karatayef, 
who  felt  ill  at  ease,  especially  in  the  presence  of  the  Prince 
and  Princess,  though  neither  showed  the  slightest  recollection, 
in  word  or  manner,  of  what  had  passed  between  them  the 
day  before. 

In  the  evening,  at  late  tea,  Mikailo  came  in  to  ask  about 
orders  for  the  morrow ;  he  had  heard  from  Tatiana  Feodorovna 
that  guests  were  expected  to  arrive. 

"  Is  anyone  coming,  mama  ?"  asked  Katya. 

The  Prince  broke  in  before  his  wife  had  time  to  answer. 
"  You  will  drive  to  the  station,"  he  said,  addressing  Mikailo, 


VM  VICTIS !  135 

"to-morrow  at  the  usual  time;  the  carriage  and  the  two 
blacks,  if  they  are  sufficiently  rested  after  yesterday." 

"  Very  good,  Your  Highness.  And  whom  shall  I  meet  at 
the  station  ?" 

"  General  Karatayef." 

"  I  say,  that's  jolly !"  exclaimed  Katya.  "  Is  your  father 
coming,  Nikolai  Nikolaievitch  ?"  And,  turning  to  Mikailo, 
she  begged  him  to  take  another  glass  of  tea. 

"  I  thank  you,  Ekaterina  Sergeievna.  Tea  is  a  blessed  gift 
of  the  good  God.  Then  I  take  Nikolai  Nikolaievitch  with 
me,  I  suppose  ?" 

"  Of  course.  Papa,  would  it  not  be  correct  for  one  of  us  to 
go  with  him  to  meet  General  Karatayef  ?  I  will  drive  with 
you,  Nikolai  Nikolaievitch." 

It  was  so  naturally  and  yet  so  decisively  said  that  it  was 
almost  impossible  to  make  any  objection  without  betraying 
what  as  yet  was  best  concealed.  The  Prince  and  Princess 
glanced  uneasily  at  each  other.  Sasha  strove  to  hide  a 
smile.  Nikolai  Karatayef  flushed  uncomfortably.  Petya  and 
Sonya  noticed  nothing ;  it  did  not  occur  to  them  to  expect  any 
reply  to  Katya's  words.  Only  Mikailo  coughed,  and  per- 
mitted himself  a  glance  of  something  approaching  accessory 
understanding ;  after  that  little  business  with  Murad  the  night 
before,  he  had  his  own  idea  of  what  it  all  meant. 

"  You  understand,  Mikailo,"  said  the  Prince.  "  Was  there 
anything  more  ?" 

"  That  was  all,  Your  Highness.     I  thank  you." 

"  Then  we  shall  have  lunch  to-morrow  as  soon  as  the  train 
has  come  in,"  said  the  Princess;  "  please  remember  that,  all 
of  you.  You  understand,  Tanya."  And  all  rose  from  table. 

Katya  said  good-night  shortly  after,  and  disappeared. 
Next  morning  Dimitri  was  sent  to  bring  her  a  message  from 
the  Princess,  who  wished  to  speak  with  her.  But  the  girl  was 
nowhere  to  be  found.  Petya  explored  the  park  without 
success,  and  Sasha  was  beginning  to  feel  anxious,  when 
Tanya  appeared  with  the  information  that  one  of  the  maids 
had  seen  her  on  the  road  to  Dubni ;  Mikailo  was  to  take  her  up 
on  the  way. 

General  Karatayef  stepped  out  of  his  compartment  and 
was  received  with  great  respect  on  all  sides.  He  was  in 


r36  KATYA 

uniform ;  that  was  nothing  unusual;  on  this  occasion,  however, 
he  appeared  to  have  donned  his  best.  His  General's  cloak, 
turned  up  and  lined  with  red,  shone  magnificently  in  the  sun, 
and  attracted  the  attention  of  the  crowd. 

He  kissed  the  young  Princess's  hand,  and  she  returned  the 
salutation  in  the  customary  manner  with  a  kiss  on  his  forehead. 
Father  and  son  embraced.  The  whole  scene  was  watched 
with  deep  interest  by  the  bystanders  on  the  platform  and 
the  travellers  in  the  train.  The  words  "  Priluka,"  "  Prince 
Rilinski,"  flew  from  mouth  to  mouth.  "  What  General  is 
that  ?"  asked  a  voice  from  a  window,  without  regard  to  who 
might  hear.  "  You  do  not  know,  little  brother  ?"  "  Ask 
and  see,  my  lamb." 

"  This  way,  if  Your  Excellency  pleases."  The  station- 
master  stalked  in  front,  impressive  and  impressed. 

"  My  servant — we  ought  perhaps.  .  .  ."  The  General 
cast  a  glance  around,  seeking  for  Osip.  It  was  not  easy  to 
find  him,  surrounded  as  he  was  at  the  moment  by  a  deeply 
interested  audience  to  whom  he  volunteered  most  detailed 
information  as  to  the  career  and  antecedents  of  General 
Nikolai  Feodorovitch  Karatayef,  late  of  the  Army  Supply 
Corps,  now  resident  in  Odessa,  and  of  a  certain  village  in  the 
neighbourhood  of  Tomsk,  where  such  of  Kapitolina's  kin  as 
were  yet  alive  waited  her  return  and  that  of  himself,  Osip. 
Osip  had  found  excellent  opportunity  for  narrative  during  the 
journey.  And  the  station  of  Dubni  was  eager  to  hear  more; 
the  little  train  would  gladly  have  disregarded  schedule  and 
regulation  for  the  sake  of  further  revelations.  It  was  a  pity 
that  an  imperative  voice  calling  for  "  Osip  !"  should  put  an 
end  to  the  tales.  Fortunately,  however,  there  was  still 
Mikailo,  dignified  and  resplendent  on  his  box.  Osip  had  yet 
an  audience. 

"  Now,  not  too  fast  to-day,  Mikailo,"  said  Katj^a,  when  they 
were  seated.  "  It  is  only  nine  verst,"  she  explained  to  the 
General,  "  and  Niki  and  I  have  so  much  to  tell  you." 

"  Tell  me  everything,  children;  remember,  I  know  nothing 
beyond  what  the  telegram  said." 

"  It  was  good  of  you  to  come,  Nikolai  Feodorovitch."  She 
pressed  the  General's  hand.  "  Now  you  tell,  Niki." 

Niki  explained  to  his  father  how  matters  stood,  and  told 
''how  Katya  had  found  out  what  she  believed  to  be  the  secret 


VICTIS !  137 

of  Prince  Rilinski's  sudden  and  otherwise  inexplicable  hos- 
tility. 

"  Yes,"  said  General  Karatayef  slowly,  playing  with  his 
cross,  "  I  think  I  understand." 

"  And  you  can  help  us,  father  ?" 

"  I  hope  so,  my  son." 

"  Will  it  be  very  hard,  do  you  think,  Nikolai  Feodorovitch, 
to  make  papa  like  you  ?"  asked  Katya,  without  the  least 
embarrassment. 

"  How  do  you.  ...  I  am  afraid  I  don't  quite  under- 
stand  " 

"  Slower,  Mikailo  !  .  .  .  I  mean,  will  it  be  difficult  for  you 
to  help  Niki  and  me  ?" 

"  I  hope  to  be  able  to  overcome  Prince  Rilinski's  objections 
to  your  happiness,  child." 

"  And  in  such  a  way  " — there  was  a  touch  of  dogged 
insistence  in  the  girl's  tone — "  that  papa  will  like  Niki  too  ?" 

"  I  am  afraid  I  can  scarcely  answer  for  the  Prince's  feelings." 

"  Niki !"  Katya  turned  reproachfully  to  the  boy.  "  You 
promised  not  to  make  me  sorry  1" 

"  But  what  on  earth  can  I  do,  Katya  ?  I  don't  know  what 
it  is  you  want  of  me." 

"  But  you,  Nikolai  Feodorovitch — you  understand  ?" 

"  I  must  admit,  I  scarcely  see.  ..." 

"  Do  you  not  mean  to  make  Niki  happy  ?" 

"  Indeed  I  do,  Ekaterina  Sergeievna.  His  mother  and  I 
have  lived  for  nothing  else." 

"  Niki  spoke  so  nicely  to  me  about  his  mother." 

"  I  thank  you,  my  boy.  I  know  now  that  you  have  been 
happy,  then." 

"  But  Niki,  could  you  ever  be  happy  again  if  you  knew  that 
I  was  always  longing  for  Priluka,  and  we  could  never  go  back 
there  any  more,  you  and  I,  because  papa  and  mama  and 
Sasha  and  Sonya  hated  us  ?" 

"  Katya,  how  can  you  !" 

The  General  looked  at  her  keenly.  But  she  kept  her  eyes 
fixed  on  Niki's  face,  and  went  on  quickly: 

"  Niki,  if  it  came  to  that,  I  think  it  would  be  my  turn  to 
shoot  myself." 

The  boy  broke  from  her  glance,  and  turned  to  his  father, 
with  a  despairing  movement  of  the  hands: 


138  KATYA 

"  Father,  help  me  ' 

It  was  the  cry  of  one  in  deadly  peril.  Mikailo  and  Osip 
turned  half  round,  and  the  General  looked  startled.  But 
Katya  said  simply : 

"  Thank  you,  Niki."  Then  calling  aloud  to  Mikailo,  she 
bade  him  drive  faster. 

General  Karatayef  was  pacing  up  and  down  the  floor  in 
Prince  Rilinski's  study.  The  Prince  sat  at  his  writing-table, 
playing  with  the  ivory  paper-knife. 

"  I  have  come,  Sergei  Arkadievitch,  to  ask  on  behalf  of  my 
son  for  your  daughter  Ekaterina's  hand." 

"  When  you  sent  off  your  telegram  yesterday  morning, 
Nikolai  Feodorovitch,  you  could  not  possibly  have  known 
what  had  taken  place  here  at  Priluka  the  evening  before.  I 
presume  that  your  son  and  my  daughter,  who  met  you  to-day, 
as  I  beg  you  to  believe,  much  against  my  wife's  and  my  own 
desire,  have  explained  the  situation  to  you  on  the  way,  and 
that  you  have  altered  the  object  of  your  visit  accordingly." 

"  I  am  here  for  my  son's  sake,  and  for  no  other  reason. 
Early  yesterday  morning  I  received  a  telegram  from  him 
requesting  me  to  come  immediately,  as  his  wishes  with  regard 
to  Ekaterina  Sergeievna  had  met  with  unexpected  and  inex- 
plicable opposition,  not  from  the  young  lady  herself,  but  from 
her  parents.  What  could  I  do  but  come  ?  What  would  you 
have  done  in  my  place,  Sergei  Arkadievitch  ?  Niki  is  my 
only  child." 

"  But  this  is  conspiracy  !  Is  your  son,  then,  in  partnership 
with  you,  Nikolai  Feodorovitch,  and  is  it  your  object  to  take 
my  daughter  from  me  with  the  rest  ?" 

"  Your  words  are  an  insult  both  to  my  son  and  to  myself, 
Sergei  Arkadievitch;  such  a  suggestion  is  unworthy  of  a  man 
of  honour." 

"  My  honour  is  in  my  own  keeping;  I  require  no  teaching 
on  that  point,  if  you  please.  As  to  the  request  which  you 
make  on  behalf  of  your  son,  my  wife  and  I  must  decline  to 
accede  to  your  wishes.  Your  son  is  already  aware  of  our 
decision,  and  will,  I  presume,  leave  Priluka  with  you  to- 
morrow. And  now  we  can  leave  that  question  as  settled,  and 
turn  to  your  other  business." 

"  No,  Sergei  Arkadievitch,  we  cannot.    This  is  no  question 


VICTIS !  139 

of  business,  but  of  the  happiness  of  two  young  people.  You 
are  making  a  mistake,  Prince  Rilinski;  you  imagine  you  are 
dealing  with  the  Kherson  Bank,  or  Mandelberg  and  Kru- 
shofski,  whereas  it  is  Nikolai's  father  who  speaks  to  you  now. 
And  let  me  tell  you  at  once,  to  avoid  irreparable  misfortune 
which  your  tone  seems  to  threaten — let  me  tell  you,  Sergei 
Arkadievitch,  that  Nikolai  Karatayef's  father  loves  his  son  as 
well  as  Ekaterina  Rilinski's  parents  love  their  daughter,  and 
that  he  can  be  as  merciless  as  they  when  his  child's  happiness 
is  at  stake." 

"  Merciless  !  You  threaten  me,  General  Karatayef  ?  Here 
in  my  own  house,  you  dare  to.  .  .  ." 

"  For  God's  sake,  Sergei  Arkadievitch,  do  not  let  our 
private  dissension  ruin  the  happiness  of  our  children." 

"  Both  are  young  enough  to  change  their  minds.  And  in 
any  case  it  must  be  my  business,  not  yours,  to  safeguard  the 
happiness  of  my  daughter." 

"  Again  you  are  wrong,  Sergei  Arkadievitch.  You  forget 
that  my  son  loves  her ;  you  would  perhaps  like  to  forget  that 
she  loves  my  son." 

"  A  childish  passion,  a  holiday  infatuation;  it  will  pass  as 
•soon  as  they  are  no  longer  together." 

"  It  is  evident  that  you  do  not  know  my  son.  He  is  quiet 
and  gentle  as  a  rule,  but  his  nature  is  violent ;  even  as  a  child 
his  temperament  was  the  cause  of  much  anxiety  to  his  mother 
and  myself.  The  friendship  of  j^our  son  Alexander  has 
influenced  him  for  good ;  the  whole  atmosphere  of  this  kindly 
and  hospitable  home  has  been  of  great  importance  to  his 
development,  and  I  thank  your  wife  and  yourself  from  my 
heart  for  your  goodness  to  my  boy.  But  his  character  is 
unchanged.  I  have  read  somewhere  or  other  these  words  of 
Xavier  le  Maistre:  '  Bury  the  wish  of  a  single  Slav  beneath 
the  foundations  of  a  castle,  and  the  whole  will  be  shattered.' 
His  years  of  study  in  Moscow  have  influenced  him  in  the  same 
way.  He  is  a  Slav  to  the  core,  Sergei  Arkadievitch,  a  Russian 
to  the  last  drop  of  blood.  A  little  slow,  a  little  heavy,  but 
of  ungovernable  passion  when  once  roused.  Even  if  he  had 
not  said  as  much  to  me,  I  should  have  understood  that  this 
was  life  or  death  to  him,  and  it  is  therefore  I  am  here." 

"  All  this  has  not  the  least  effect  upon  my  wife's  and  my 
decision;  nothing  can  alter  that." 


I4o  KATYA 

"  You  speak  foolishly,  Sergei  Arkadievitch.  ...  I  beg  your 
pardon,"  he  added,  as  the  Prince  rose  haughtily  to  his  feet. 
"  The  expression  was  not  well  chosen.  I  beg  you  to  forget 
it.  But  I  must  again  entreat  you,  Sergei  Arkadievitch,  to 
remember  that  I  am  Niki's  father.  I  do  not  forget  that  Katya 
is  your  daughter." 

"  She  has  acted  to-day  as  no  daughter  of  mine;  her  mother 
and  I " 

"  Because  she  came  to  meet  me  at  the  station  ?  You  mean 
that  this  was  an  idea  of  her  own — carried  out  against  her 
parents'  wish  ?"  There  was  a  slight  accent  of  doubt  in  the 
General's  tone. 

"  When  I  gave  the  coachman  his  orders  yesterday  evening 
in  connection  with  your  expected  arrival,  she  declared  that 
she  would  drive  to  meet  you,  and  in  such  a  manner  that  it  was 
impossible  for  my  wife  or  myself  to  forbid  it  in  the  presence  of 
the  others,  without  unpleasantness  or  even  scandal.  I  asked 
Anastasia  Grigorievna  afterwards  to  put  a  stop  to  this  most 
unsuitable  proceeding ;  this  morning,  however,  when  my  wife 
sent  for  her,  Katya  was  already  on  the  way  to  Dubni.  She 
has  deeply  offended  us  both  in  the  matter." 

"  I  am  glad  you  have  told  me  this,  Sergei  Arkadievitch;  I 
thank  you." 

"  You  are  content  with  very  little,  Nikolai  Feodorovitch." 

There  was  a  pause.  General  Karatayef,  pacing  up  and 
down,  searched  the  floor  intently. 

"  Will  you  permit  me,  Sergei  Arkadievitch" — the  General 
spoke  hesitatingly — "  to  put  a  question  to  you  ?" 

"  I  have  neither  the  power  nor  the  wish  to  avoid  any  discus- 
sion concerning  matters  of  business." 

"  Business — h'm — this  can  perhaps  scarcely  be  called.  .  .  . 
I  do  not  quite  know,  myself.  .  .  .  May  I  ask,  what  does 
your  daughter  Ekaterina  know  of  your  dealings  with  the 
Kherson  Bank  ?  " 

"  She  has  dared  to  speak  to  you  about  that  ?  By  Heaven  !" 
The  Prince  sprang  up  with  a  furious  gesture. 

"  She  knows,  then  ?"  The  General's  eyes  were  fixed  on  a 
crack  in  the  floor. 

"  Great  God,  what  shame  has  she  brought  upon  us  all  1" 

The  Prince  breathed  heavily.  "  What  has  she  said — what 
vile  suspicion  has  she  given  you,  Nikolai  Feodorovitch  ?" 


VJE  VICTIS !  141 

"  Do  not  say  '  vile.'  Neither  of  us  have  anything  to  gain 
by  using  ugly  words." 

"  You  are  right — I  beg  your  pardon.  But  I  beg  you  to 
speak  out;  I  cannot  bear  this  much  longer." 

"  From  my  brief  conversation  with  Ekaterina  Sergeievna 
on  the  way,  I  gathered  that  she  was  acquainted  with  your 
relations  to  the  Kherson  Bank,  and — er — the  present  position 
of  affairs." 

"  I  swear  to  you  on  my  honour  that  I  have  never  spoken  a 
word  to  her  on  the  matter,  nor  to  any  of  my  children ;  I  have 
kept  the  whole  affair  a  profound  secret." 

"  Niki  explained  to  me — somewhat  incoherently,  it  is  true, 
but  we  had  little  time,  and  he  was  excited — that  your  daughter 
seemed  somehow  to  have  discovered  by  herself.  ..." 

"  My  wife  and  I  discussed  the  same  question  yesterday.  It 
is  incomprehensible  to  us  both  how  she  can  have  managed  to 
get  at  the  root  of  a  matter  of  which  my  son  has  no  suspicion, 
and  of  which  my  wife  knows  nothing  but  the  bare  out- 
lines." 

"  No  papers  left  about,  no  conversation — with  Mandelberg, 
for  instance — that  could  have  been  overheard  ?" 

"  Impossible  I     I  must  beg  you  to  believe  my  word." 

Again  a  pause  ensued,  broken  only  by  the  Prince  repeating 
soft  to  himself,  "  Mysterious — mysterious  1" 

"  I  thank  you  again,  Sergei  Arkadievitch,"  said  the  General 
at  last,  "  for  your  frankness.  Mandelberg  once  said  to  me 
that  he  thought  your  daughter  Katya  would  be  a  difficult 
young  lady  to  deal  with.  He  meant,  of  course,  no  offence. 
And  I  am  beginning  to  think  he  was  right.  At  the  same  time, 
I  find  it  more  and  more  difficult  to  understand  your  wife  and 
yourself." 

"  How  ?     What  do  you  mean  ?" 

"  You  said  a  few  minutes  ago  that  your  daughter  and  my 
son  were  merely  suffering  from  a  summer  infatuation.  I  have 
already  told  you  that  in  Niki's  case  you  are  making  a  great 
mistake.  And  the  same  is  true  as  regards  Katya." 

"  We  shall  see.  In  the  meantime  I  must  ask  you  to  leave 
that  to  my  wife  and  myself." 

"  But  you  must  be  blind,  Sergei  Arkadievitch.  Your 
pride,  and — yes,  let  me  speak  out  for  once — your  hate  of  me 
have  made  you  blind,  Prince  Rilinski.  Do  not  interrupt  me," 


I42  KATYA 

the  General  went  on  firmly,  as  the  Prince  made  an  impatient 
movement;  "I  do  not  deny  that  there  are  many  things 
which  I  may  well  envy  you  in  life  .  .  .  more,  perhaps,  than  you 
imagine.  But,  thank  God,  as  a  father,  I  am  stronger  and 
better  than  you.  My  dead  wife  would  have  understood  me  in 
this  moment." 

He  crossed  himself  reverently. 

"  I  have  no  wish  to  hear  theatrical  recitations,  Nikolai 
Feodorovitch,  nor  do  I  intend  myself  to  declaim  upon  the 
subject  of  my  feelings  for  you.  Our  business  together  is  of 
quite  another  character  and  I  shall  be  glad  if  you  will  come 
to  the  point." 

The  General,  who  had  stopped  his  pacing  up  and  down, 
recommenced  now  more  restlessly  than  before.  He  drew  his 
coat  about  him  and  shook  himself;  his  eyes  searched  the  floor 
in  all  directions. 

"  Sergei  Arkadievitch,"  he  said  at  last,  his  voice  trembling, 
"  you  despise  me.  I  know  it.  I  could  wish  that  Anastasia 
Grigorievna  were  here." 

"  My  wife  has  no  concern  with  our  business  affairs — at  any 
rate,  not  at  present." 

"  You  are  right.  We  must  first  get  matters  settled  on  that 
point."  It  was  a  warm  day  in  July,  but  General  Karatayef 
seemed  to  find  it  cold.  Prince  Rilinski  drew  himself  up  in  his 
chair. 

"  I  have  told  you  already,  Sergei  Arkadievitch,  that  my  only 
business  at  Priluka  was  to  request  the  hand  of  your  daughter 
Ekaterina  for  my  son.  And  it  is  true."  The  General  spoke 
with  difficulty.  "  But  I  can,  if  necessary,  do  more  than 
request :  I  can  demand.  And  for  my  son's  sake  I  am  ready  to 
do  so." 

The  Prince  laughed — a  hard,  scornful  laugh. 

"  Do  not  laugh,  Sergei  Arkadievitch.  You  have  won  no 
victory.  You  are  a  poorer  man  than  I  had  thought." 

"  I  and  my  house  are  fallen  on  evil  days,  Nikolai  Feodoro- 
vitch. But  I  do  not  fear  you." 

"  I  have  no  wish  that  you  should  fear  me.  We  have  not  got 
so  far  as  that.  But  why  speak  to  me  of  your  misfortunes  ? 
Have  I  asked  you  to  borrow  money  of  me  ?  Have  I  in  any 
single  instance  advised  you  to  your  loss  ?  Is  it  I  who  have 
drawn  you  into  speculations  which  you  alone  knew  were 


VM  VICTIS  t  143 

beyond  your  means  ?  No,  Prince  Rilinski,  the  truth  of  the 
matter  is  this :  you  dare  not  admit  even  to  yourself  that  you 
have  brought  misfortune  upon  yourself." 

"  I  have  not  accused  you,  General  Karatayef.  Your 
defence  is  unnecessary." 

"  Yet  you  hate  me;  most  of  all  you  hate  me.  You  turn  my 
son  out  of  your  house,  and  do  not  hesitate  to  ruin  both  his  and 
your  own  daughter's  happiness  merely  to  gratify  your  hate. 
You  are  even  prepared  to  sacrifice  your  whole  family  in  order 
to  punish  a  man  against  whom  you  can  bring  no  shadow  of  an 
accusation.  No,  Prince  Rilinski,  you  have  won  no  victory — 
not  even  over  yourself." 

"  And  you,  General  Karatayef,  what  is  your  triumph — 
beyond  the  fact  of  having  brought  this  house  to  ruin  ?" 
The  Prince's  tone  was  somewhat  lower;  he  was  feeling 
weary. 

"  I  will  tell  you  that  in  a  moment.  But  first  let  me  say  that 
the  Kherson  Bank,  while  continuing  its  present  relations  with 
yourself,  will,  as  soon  as  I  return  to  Odessa,  place  to  the 
account  of  your  daughter  Ekaterina  such  funds  as  may  be 
necessary  for  the  completion  of  your  building  operations  in 
Peressip,  without  demanding  further  security.  The  capital 
will  be  administered  as  heretofore,  by  the  firm  of  Mandelberg 
and  Krushofski,  who  will  thus  act  as  agents  for  your 
daughter." 

"  You  are  abusing  my  hospitality,  Nikolai  Feodorovitch." 
The  Prince  stamped  his  foot.  "  I  have  controlled  myself  as 
far  as  possible,  but  this  is  too  much.  Here,  in  my  own  house, 
you  propose  to  me — to  me — to  sell  my  daughter.  ..." 

"  Have  I  expressed  a  wish  to  purchase  her  ?  The  Kherson 
Bank  will  demand  neither  security  nor  any  recompense." 

"  Your  meaning  was  clear  enough." 

"  And  yet  you  have  not  understood,  Sergei  Arkadievitch. 
Your  daughter  is  not  yet  of  age.  You  can,  if  you  wish, 
protest  against  any  investment  of  her  capital  in  your  opera- 
tions. True,  that  would  mean  your  ruin;  still  .  .  ."  The 
General  shrugged  his  shoulders.  "  But  at  the  same  time,  the 
Kherson  Bank  will  take  over  the  whole  of  the  buildings  and 
land,  and  carry  out  the  whole  project  according  to  the  sound 
original  plan.  And  when  the  speculation  has  succeeded,  the 
greater  part  of  the  profits  will  naturally  fall  to  your  daughter, 


144  KATYA 

if  she  will  accept  it — regardless  of  your  wishes  in  the  matter. 
She  will  be  of  age  by  then — and  all  you  will  have  gained  will 
be  your  own  ruin." 

"  There  is  something  behind  all  this.  My  daughter  a 
partner  in  your  rascally  plots  !" 

"  Now  it  is  you  who  abuse  your  position  as  host,  Sergei 
Arkadievitch.  Your  daughter  knows  nothing  of  my  present 
decision,  nor  did  I  myself  dream  of  any  such  an  hour 
ago." 

"  You  are  making  a  great  mistake,  Nikolai  Feodorovitch. 
My  daughter  will  never  consent  to  any  such  arrangement  in 
opposition  to  her  parents'  wishes." 

"  Possibly  not — very  possibly  not.  But  even  so,  it  merely 
means  that  the  Kherson  Bank  will  receive  the  undivided 
profits  of  a  business  which  only  requires  the  necessary  funds 
to  become  in  a  short  time  a  very  remunerative  affair.  At 
least,  in  my  opinion — presumably  also  in  the  opinion  of 
Prince  Rilinski,  who  has  staked  his  whole  fortune  on  its 
success." 

"  Ah — I  thought  so.  Now  we  are  coming  to  the  point, 
Go  on,  General  Karatayef,  as  you  will.  I  am  ready." 

"  I  do  not  catch  your  meaning." 

"  You  have  begun  to  threaten.  How  do  you  propose  to 
put  your  threats  into  execution  ?" 

"  Ah !"  The  General  turned  impatiently  on  his  heel. 
"  This  is  madness.  In  Heaven's  name,  man,  can  you  not  see 
that  I  have  myself  thrown  down  my  arms— destroyed  every 
weapon  I  possessed  !  Can  you  not  see.  ..." 

"  But  why  ?  What  is  your  object — what  have  you  to 
gain  ?" 

"  To  show  you  my  empty  hands — no,  not  you,  Prince 
Rilinski,  but  your  daughter.  She  shall  see  that  I  have  been 
worthy  of  Niki's  confidence,  and  if  her  happiness  and  his  are 
to  be  destroyed,  then  no  fault,  at  least,  shall  lie  with  Niki's 
father." 

The  Prince  sat  staring  blankly  before  him.  The  General 
glanced  at  him,  and  continued : 

"  You  asked  me  a  moment  ago  what  I  had  won.  I  will 
tell  you.  I  have  done  what  I  could  for  my  boy.  It  has  not 
been  an  easy  task,  but  Anna  Dimitrievna  and  I  have  made 
sacrifices  before  for  his  sake — sacrifices  greater  far  than  this. 


VICTIS  !  145 

But  you  would  not  understand There  have  been  moments 

when  I  imagined  that  this  interview  would  have  taken  a  very 
different  course.  Even  to-day,  on  my  way  here,  I  was  pre- 
pared for  quite  another  plan  of  action.  But  your  daughter 
has  shown  me  much  that  I  did  not  know,  and  you  have  twice 
confirmed  my  impression.  I  have  thanked  you  for  so  doing; 
I  thank  you  again.  It  may  be  that  she  is  not  the  wife  my 
boy  should  have,  after  all;  there  are  depths  in  her  which 
neither  he  nor  you  yourself  perceive.  Life  with  her  will  not 
be  easy.  But  they  love  each  other,  those  two,  and  they 
deserve  to  win.  I  have  done  my  part;  it  is  for  you  now, 
Prince  Rilinski,  to  show  how  far  worthy  you  are  of  your 
daughter." 

"  I  do  not  understand,"  said  the  Prince  wearily.  His 
strength  was  becoming  exhausted ;  time  after  time  he  pressed 
the  flat  of  the  ivory  blade  against  his  forehead. 

"  Katya  loves  you  and  her  home;  she  could  not  bear  to 
think  that  her  love  for  Niki  should  come  between  you.  She 
did  not  say  so  very  much  this  morning,  but  she  made  her 
meaning  clear,  and  it  was  this,  that  her  happiness  should 
mean  the  happiness  of  all  her  home.  So  at  least  I  understood 
her.  And  so  I  have  done  what  I  have  done — not  for  her 
sake,  but  for  my  boy's,  because  I  saw  that  he  could  not  be 
happy  save  with  her.  If  you  persist  in  bringing  ruin 
upon  yourself  and  those  nearest  to  you,  I  cannot  prevent 
you:  you  alone  will  have  to  answer  for  it  before  God  and 
man." 

"  I  should  be  glad  if  my  wife  could  be  present.  I  should 
like.  .  .  ." 

"  Nothing  could  give  me  greater  pleasure." 

The  Prince  rang  the  bell,  and  gave  Dimitri  the  message. 

"  I  sent  for  you,  my  dear,"  he  said,  when  the  Princess 
appeared,  "  because  I  wished  to  tell  you  that  I  have 
been  mistaken  as  to  the  object  of  General  Karatayef's 
visit." 

"  I  am  glad,  Sergei,  for  your  sake  and  our  own." 

"  The  General  has  come  to  ask,  on  behalf  of  his  son,  for 
Katya's  hand.  As  to  the  manner  in  which  the  information 
has  been  conveyed  at  such  short  notice — we  can  go  into  that 
later.  Katya  has  during  the  last  few  days  exhibited  an 
activity  which  will  require  considerable  explanation." 

10 


146  KATYA 

"  You  are  right,  my  dear — we  can  talk  with  her  quietly 
later  on." 

"  It  appears,  however,  from  what  Nikolai  Feodorovitch 
tells  me,  that  she  has  acted  in  every  way  with  the  best  of 
motives.  .  .  ." 

"  I  told  you,  Sergei,  if  you  remember,  that  she  had  said 
something  of  the  sort  herself,  but  in  her  own  excited  fashion ; 
and  she  is  always  so  impatient  when  one  does  not  catch  her 
meaning  at  once." 

"  All  this  we  can  go  into  afterwards.  Meanwhile,  Nikolai 
Feodorovitch  informs  me  ...  I  presume  on  behalf  of  the 
Kherson  Bank  ?" 

"  Precisely.     On  behalf  of  the  Bank,  of  course." 

"...  That  while  such  part  of  our  fortune  and  property  as 
is  already  invested  in  the  Odessa  project  will  remain  there,  no 
further  capital  will  be  demanded  for  the  completion  of  the 
undertaking.  .  .  :  I  believe  I  am  interpreting  your  state- 
ments correctly,  Nikolai  Feodorovitch  ?" 

"  Perfectly  so." 

"...  But  the  Bank  will,  without  demanding  further 
security  in  the  estate — or  in  the  family  jewels  .  .  ." 

The  General  nodded  assent. 

"...  Complete  the  building  operations  in  Peressip  on 
its  own  account,  the  ultimate  profits  being  divided  between 
the  Bank  and  us,  or  our  children,  in  proportion  to  the  amounts 
respectively  invested." 

"  Perfectly  correct,  save  on  one  point.  The  Bank  will  not 
continue  on  its  own  account,  but  for  account  of  Ekaterina 
Sergeievna,  provided  her  parents  give  their  consent  on  her 
behalf,  until  she  is  of  age." 

"  Sergei,  we  cannot  do  this  thing.  We  will  ourselves 
provide  for  the  children  as  far  as  we  are  able." 

"  I  thank  you,  my  dear."  The  Prince  kissed  his  wife's 
hair. 

"  The  point  is  immaterial,  Anastasia  Grigorievna.  I  have 
already  discussed  the  question  with  Prince  Rilinski." 

"  Perfectly  true.  I  omitted  to  mention  the  fact.  We 
cannot  deny  that  such  a  course  of  action  on  the  part  of  the 
Bank  is  most  magnanimous — no  recompense  of  any  kind  is 
demanded.  .  .  ." 

"  Nor  will  be,"  interpolated  the  General. 


VICTIS !  147 

"  But  then  you  must  have  been  quite  mistaken,  dear,  about 
the  .  .  .  the  Bank.  I  thank  you,  Nikolai  Feodorovitch,  for 
bringing  us  such  welcome  news." 

"  I  am  overjoyed,  Anastasia  Grigorievna,  to  find  my  boy's 
kind  friend,  his  second  mother.  .  .  ." 

"It  is  but  sadly  little,  I  fear,  that  I  have  been  able  to  do 
for  him  in  this  painful  time." 

"  You  see,  my  dear,"  went  on  the  Prince,  "  I  was  mis- 
taken. I  admit  as  much.  And  I  apologize  to  ...  the 
Bank  for  my  suspic  .  .  .  my  erroneous  ideas  as  to  its 
intentions." 

"  It  is  of  no  consequence,  I  assure  you."  The  General  had 
found  a  speck  of  something  invisible  on  the  floor. 

"  But  the  question  upon  which  I  wished  to  consult  my  wife 
is  this  " — the  Prince  turned  to  Anastasia  Grigorievna — "  Am 
I  to  accept  the  offer  ?  It  is  unusual — most  unusual — one 
might  almost  say  incomprehensible.  Without  any  actual 
obligation,  it  yet  places  us  in  a  position  of  moral  dependence 
...  in  a  word,  the  transaction  savours  rather  of  sentiment 
than  of  business." 

"  If  I  am  not  mistaken,  Sergei,  you  said  just  now  that  no 
compensation  was  or  would  be  demanded." 
"  Perfectly  correct,  my  dear." 
"  Then  I  think  you  should  accept." 
The  General  seized  the  Princess's  hand  and  kissed  it. 
"  I  accept  the  offer,  Nikolai  Feodorovitch — and  I  thank 
you." 

The  two  men  bowed.  There  was  a  silence  for  some  moments 
in  the  great  room. 

"  Let  me  help  you,  dear,"  said  the  Princess  at  last.  "  It  is 
easier  for  me.  You  see  " — she  turned  to  the  General — "  we  are 
both  so  very  fond  of  Niki,  and  if  only  Katya  were  not  so  young, 
I  see  no  reason.  ...  It  is  hard  to  bring  sorrow  upon  those 
we  love;  I  hope  that  none  of  mine  may  ever  suffer.  .  .  .  What 
do  you  say,  dear  ?" 

"I  am  an  old  man,  Anastasia;  the  responsibility  is  too 
heavy  for  me.  And  these  young  people  are  too  strong.  .  .  . 
You  are  right,  dear,  they  must  not  suffer  if  we  can  help  it. 
Our  own  troubles  we  must  bear — as  long  as  we  can,  as  bravely 
as  may  be.  .  .  ." 

"And   make  what   happiness  we  can   for  our   children," 


148  KATYA 

added   General   Karatayef.     "  I    know   that  Niki's  mother 
prays  for  them,  as  we." 

That  afternoon  in  Princess  Rilinski's  little  boudoir  with 
the  ancient  figures  of  saints  in  every  corner,  Katya  and  Niki 
learned  what  their  parents  had  decided.  Prince  Sergei  was 
deeply  moved  as  he  embraced  his  daughter ;  but  Katya  whis- 
pered gaily  in  his  ear  that  he  should  only  have  told  her  all 
about  it  long  before.  The  Princess  gave  the  two  young 
people  her  solemn  blessing,  and  Niki,  with  moist  eyes,  kneeled 
to  receive  it. 

"  Let  us  forget,  Niki,"  said  the  Prince  to  his  son-in-law, 
"  and  let  us  hope  for  the  future.  One  day  perhaps  you  will 
understand  me.  You  are  honest  and  true,  Niki;  I  do  not 
fear  for  my  child." 

General  Karatayef  seemed  not  to  hear  the  thanks  which 
Niki  and  Katya  whispered  in  his  ear  as  they  embraced  him. 
But  he  held  the  girl's  hand  in  his,  and  looked  long  into  her 
eyes. 

"  Make  my  boy  happy,  Ekaterina  Sergeievna,"  he  said. 
"  He  deserves  it.  And  I  will  watch  over  you.  Remember, 
child,  that  his  sorrows  will  be  my  sorrows,  as  to-day  his 
happiness  is  mine." 

When  Tatiana  Feodorovna  met  them  on  the  way  out  to  the 
veranda,  Katya  sprang  forward  to  tell  her  the  great  news. 
Tanya  shed  tears  of  joy,  and  having  stammered  out  con- 
gratulations to  them  both,  hastened  off  as  fast  as  her  aged 
legs  would  carry  her  to  inform  the  whole  household  of  the 
event.  In  an  incredibly  short  space  of  time  the  message  had 
penetrated  to  the  farthest  corner  of  the  estate.  Dimitri  rang 
the  bell  for  tea  as  though  it  were  a  wild  alarm  of  war.  Niki 
and  Katya  stood  on  the  veranda,  looking  out  with  confident 
joy  over  the  lawn,  with  its  beds  of  roses  and  its  century-old 
guard  of  mighty  trees,  down  to  the  lake  that  lay  spread  out 
beyond  the  slope.  The  old  General's  eyes  rested  lovingly  on 
the  pair;  he  dreamed  of  new  and  distant  goals  for  their 
ambition  and  his  own.  Prince  Rilinski  sat  by  his  wife's  side, 
weary  and  exhausted;  never  had  the  weight  of  years  seemed 
so  heavy  upon  him  as  now. 

Sasha  came  dashing  up  from  the  park  with  Petya  and 
Sonya. 


V&  VICTIS !  149 

"  Niki — Katya — Is  it  true  ?  Alek  has  just  told  us.  He's 
coming  up — and  all  the  others." 

There  was  no  need  to  ask.  As  Katya  and  Nikolai  Karatayef 
stood  there  on  the  terrace,  with  their  parents  in  a  silent  group 
behind,  their  joy  was  plain  to  all. 

There  was  a  little  gasp,  and  then  silence.  Stumbling,  half- 
blinded  by  quick  tears,  Sony  a  fled  to  her  room  to  be  alone. 

Lieutenant  Orloff  turned  on  his  heel,  and  strode  away  stiffly, 
as  one  who  hides  a  wound,  to  the  shade  and  shelter  of  the 
park. 


BOOK    II 
THE  CITY  OF  SUFFERING 

CHAPTER  I 

NIGHT  ON   THE   BLACK  SEA 

As  long  as  it  was  yet  possible  to  distinguish  the  figures  on 
the  quay,  the  passengers  on  board  the  new  and  elegant  Levant 
steamer  Tsar  Nikolai  II,  remained  standing  by  the  railing 
and  looking  towards  the  shore.  Gradually,  however,  the 
little  groups  on  land  lost  their  outline,  until  at  last  nothing 
was  to  be  seen  but  a  vague  blur  of  black  above  the  weed- 
fringed  grey  of  the  mole.  On  the  steamer  the  close-packed 
ranks  of  land  ward -gazing  travellers  melted  into  bustling  units 
impatiently  demanding  of  all  and  sundry  the  number  of  their 
berths,  looking  for  already  mislaid  items  of  their  lighter 
luggage,  or  harassing  busy  seamen  with  inquiries  as  to  weather 
prospects. 

"  Stay  here  a  moment  and  look  after  Anna,"  said  Madame 
Karatayef  to  her  husband,  who  was  standing  by  the  railing 
holding  the  child's  dress  fast  in  one  hand  for  fear  of  accidents. 
"  I  must  see  what  has  become  of  Miss  Warden  and  Sergei; 
we  must  keep  together." 

"  Papa,  what  is  that  big  white  stripe  away  there  between 
the  houses  ?"  asked  the  child,  pointing  towards  the  coast. 

"  That  is  the  stair  from  the  Nikolaiefski  down  to  the  sea 
where  you  went  with  grandpapa  yesterday,  don't  you 
remember  ?" 

"  Yes,  I  remember.  Papa,  is  it  the  biggest  stair  in  all  the 
world  ?" 

"  That  I  cannot  say,  little  one.  But  it  is  very  big.  Grand- 
papa told  you;  two  hundred  steps  and  seventeen  arshin  wide." 

"  One  hundred  and  ninety-three,  grandpapa  said." 

"  Then,  of  course,  it's  right,  little  Anna." 

150 


"And  all  those  houses  there  —  are  they  all  mama's?" 
The  child  was  pointing  towa-  s  the  north-western  extension 
of  Odessa  along  the  coast. 

"  No,  not  all.  Only  a  little  of  all  you  see.  And  you  know 
some  of  them  belong  to  grandmama  at  Priluka  and  Aunt 
Sonya,  and  grandpapa  in  Odessa  and  little  Sasha — grandpapa 
has  often  told  you." 

"  But  I  thought  most  of  them  were  mama's." 

"  Not  most.  Only  those  at  the  farthest  end — you  can 
scarcely  see  them." 

"  And  that  street  down  by  the  water,  Novaya  Ekaterin- 
skaya — is  it  named  after  mama  ?" 

"  I  don't  know  if  we  can  say  it  is  named  after  mama. 
But  it  is  called  Novaya  Ekaterinskaya." 

"  Why  are  no  streets  named  after  Aunt  Sonya  and  little 
Sasha  ?" 

"  I  do  not  know,,  dear.  And  I  just  told  you,  that  it  is  not 
certain  the  street  in  Peressip  is  called  after  mama.  The 
great  big  street  in  Odessa,  where  grandpapa  buys  all  your 
beautiful  dolls,  is  called  Ekaterinskaya  after  the  Empress — 
you  have  seen  her  statue,  you  know,  at  the  top  of  the  great 
stair.  So  it  is  not  strange  that  a  new  street  down  by  the 
coast  is  called  Novaya  Ekaterinskaya." 

"  Grandpapa  says  mama's  houses  are  just  as  old  as  I  am." 

"  So  they  are,  dear;  eleven  years  old." 

"  Papa,  I  should  like  to  fetch  the  new  big  doll  and  sit  up 
here  by  you." 

"  Ask  your  mother  to  give  you  something  warm  to  put  on 
then.  It  will  be  colder  when  we  get  out  to  sea.  And  you 
can  tell  Yussuf  to  bring  my  fur  coat — and  some  cigarettes." 

Consul  Karatayef  stood  looking  out  towards  Odessa,  with 
its  blocks  of  houses  and  many-coloured  domes,  that  grew 
smaller  and  more  vague,  until  at  last  the  town  was  but  a 
grey  blot  on  the  shore  with  a  many-pointed  crown  faintly 
outlined  against  the  sky.  Seven — eight  times  or  more  he 
had  made  this  journey  across  the  Black  Sea,  alone  or  with  his 
wife  and  children,  and  each  time  it  seemed  harder  to  bid  his 
father  good-bye.  The  last  years  had  brought  the  two  men 
closer  to  each  other  than  ever  they  had  been  before.  They 
saw  more  of  each  other;  Niki's  journeys  from  Constantinople, 
Trebizond,  and  Salonika  to  St.  Petersburg  on  service,  or  to 


152  K.A1YA 

Priluka  on  leave,  brought  him  continually  to  Odessa,  and 
the  first  to  welcome,  the  last  to  wave  good-bye  from  the 
Russian  shore,  was  ever  General  Karatayef.  Age  seemed  to 
pass  him  by;  he  was  over  seventy  now,  but  in  his  son's  eyes 
he  looked  as  he  had  always  done.  A  trifle  thinner  perhaps; 
his  old  fear  of  draughts  and  cold  perhaps  increased,  otherwise 
nothing  had  changed.  When  the  young  pair,  in  the  third 
year  of  their  marriage,  came  to  pay  him  a  visit  on  the  way 
from  St.  Petersburg  to  Niki's  first  post  abroad,  at  the  Legation 
in  Belgrade,  they  had  been  forced  to  put  up  at  an  hotel  with 
their  little  daughter  Anna,  then  eighteen  months  old;  the 
old  palace  in  the  Konnaya  could  not  house  the  numerous 
retinue  of  servants  which,  according  to  Katya's  wish,  accom- 
panied them  everywhere.  The  General  had  made  no  remark, 
but  when  Niki  the  following  summer  came  over  alone  from 
Priluka  to  see  his  father,  he  found  the  place  entirely  changed. 
All  the  rooms  were  open  now,  and  habitable,  save  one;  his 
mother's  room  remained  untouched  and  locked.  A  complete 
suite  had  been  made  ready  for  Niki  and  his  family,  all  arranged 
with  such  comfort  and  convenience  as  not  the  best  hotel  in 
Odessa  could  boast. 

"  And  don't  you  think,  Niki,"  said  the  General,  showing 
his  son  over  the  rooms,  "  that  you  might  bring  little  Anna  to 
stay  with  me  next  time  you  come  ?" 

The  old  man  lavished  a  touching  affection  on  his  little 
granddaughter.  During  the  first  year  of  her  life,  while  she 
was  yet  too  young  for  toys,  he  sent  her  endless  treasures  of 
valuable  art  embroidery  for  her  little  caps  and  dresses,  cradle 
hangings,  and  the  like.  Katya,  who  never  touched  a  needle, 
but  knew  the  worth  of  such  things,  declared  that  the  gifts 
were  simply  extravagant,  and  wrote  to  ask  her  father-in-law 
for  the  name  of  the  shop  where  they  were  bought.  She 
received  the  address  of  a  house  in  Odessa,  but  the  orders  she 
sent  for  some  similar  work  for  herself  were  never  executed. 

Anna  had  been  named  after  Niki's  mother,  and  when  a  son 
appeared  a  year  later,  he  was  called  Sergei  after  Katya's 
father.  The  child  died,  however,  when  only  a  month  old. 
The  loss  affected  Niki  deeply,  and  he  made  urgent  applica- 
tion for  an  appointment  abroad.  The  post  of  Attache"  at 
Belgrade  was  less  important  than  he  had  hoped  for,  but  he 
accepted  it  as  a  welcome  means  of  escape  from  St.  Petersburg. 


NIGHT  ON  THE  BLACK  SEA  153 

In  Belgrade  another  son  was  born,  and  likewise  christened 
Sergei,  a  strong  and  healthy  little  fellow,  now  eight  years 
old. 

General  Karatayef  made  so  little  secret  of  his  preference 
for  the  girl  that  Sergei  might  with  reason  have  been  jealous, 
which,  however,  did  not  appear  to  be  the  case.  The  old 
man's  love  for  the  little  girl  was  fully  returned.  There  seemed 
some  bond  of  secret  understanding  between  the  two  that 
needed  no  words  of  common  explanation.  Even  though 
years  passed  between  their  one  meeting  and  the  next,  this 
mutual  confidence  and  sympathy  seemed  always  undiminished. 
The  child  never  expressed  the  slightest  longing  for  Priluka, 
or  her  little  cousins  elsewhere  in  Russia,  but  Niki  knew  that 
as  often  as  he  was  left  alone  with  his  little  daughter  she  would 
ask  after  her  grandfather  in  Odessa.  She  wrote  to  him 
frequently  in  Russian,  thus  effectively  avoiding  the  super- 
vision of  her  English  governess  Miss  Warden.  Niki  had  read 
one  or  two  of  these  letters,  which  were  very  short  and  re- 
markable for  a  high  degree  of  inaccuracy  as  regards  orthog- 
raphy. Anna  wrote  both  French  and  English  better  than 
Russian.  There  was  nothing,  however,  in  the  letters  beyond 
what  a  child  of  Anna's  age  might  naturally  be  expected  to 
write.  The  strange  thing  was  the  desire  itself.  Anna  would 
write  letters  to  her  grandfather,  but  it  was  a  matter  of  diffi- 
culty to  get  her  ever  to  pen  two  lines  to  her  grandmother  at 
Priluka,  or  anyone  else.  The  old  General  had  won  the  child's 
heart,  and  Niki  felt  deeply  grateful  to  his  father  for  his  untiring 
kindness  to  her  and  to  them  all.  It  was  hard  to  say  good-bye 
to  the  old  man.  Even  though  he  bore  his  years  so  well,  they 
were  yet  so  many  that  each  weighed  heavily  in  the  scale; 
and  there  was  no  knowing  what  might  happen  before  Niki 
and  his  little  daughter  again  returned  to  Odessa.  .  .  . 

A  discreet  sound  at  his  elbow  wakened  him  from  his 
meditations.  It  was  Yussuf,  the  Albanian  kavass,  with  his 
fur  coat  and  cigarettes. 

"  Your  Excellency  wished  ..." 

"  Thanks,  Yussuf.  Well,  are  you  glad  to  return  to  the 
Balkans  again  ?" 

"  I  am  fond  of  Russia,  Excellency.  For  the  first  year,  I 
think,  they  were  afraid  of  me  at  Priluka.  But  I  get  on  well 
enough  with  them  all  now — all  except  Tatiana  Feodorovna," 


154  KATYA 

he  added,  with  a  flash  of  white  teeth  under  his  heavy  drooping 
moustache. 

"  Yes — you  have  been  with  us  for  five  years  now  ..." 

"  Six,  your  Excellency.  Sergei  Nikolaievitch  was  just  two 
years  old  when  I  entered  your  Excellency's  service — a  month 
after  the  arrival  at  Constantinople." 

"  True.  We  shall  need  more  kavasses  now  at  Stradovo. 
Two  more  at  least,  I  think.  I  must  ask  the  Ambassador  at 
Constantinople  as  we  pass  through.  Do  you  think  you 
could  get  a  couple  of  good  men — Albanians,  of  your  own 
people  ?" 

"  I  know  Stradovo  as  my  hand,  Excellency.  I  can  get  as 
many  kavasses  as  are  required.  There  is  no  need  to  take 
any  with  us,  either  from  Constantinople  or  Salonika." 

"  As  far  as  I  could  see  from  the  short  visit  to  Stradovo  last 
spring,  it  is  a  fairly  big  town.  The  Consulate-General  at 
Salonika  reckons  it  as  some  twenty  thousand ;  but  you  must 
remember  there  has  never  been  a  Russian  Consulate  there 
before,  and  the  whole  district  is  held  to  be  dangerous." 

"  If  the  Austrians  can  be  there,  then  so  can  we." 

"  Of  course.  And  sooner  or  later  there  will  come  others, 
no  doubt." 

"  I  hope  it  may  be  so,  for  the  sake  of  Her  Excellency 
and  the  children.  It  will  be  a  little  lonely  for  them  at 
first." 

"  Anyhow,  Yussuf,  you  see  that  we  shall  need  good,  reliable 
men." 

"Trust  me,  your  Excellency;  I  will  get  all  we  require. 
But  if  I  might  be  permitted  ..." 

"  Go  on,  Yussuf;  I  am  always  grateful  for  good  advice." 

"  If  the  Ambassador  at  Constantinople  offers  an  escort  of 
Cossacks,  as  is  customary  in  Macedonian  towns  on  the 
Albanian  frontier,  it  would  be  wise  to  say  no,  your  Excellency. 
They  do  no  good;  their  presence  only  serves  to  excite  both 
Turks  and  Albanians.  We  shall  know  how  to  protect  your 
Excellency,  and  all  that  is  yours." 

"  It  may  be  that  you  are  right,  Yussuf.  We  shall  see  what 
the  Ambassador  says.  But  how  did  you  manage,"  added  the 
Consul  with  a  smile,  "  at  Priluka,  when  the  mere  sight  of  a 
Cossack  is  sufficient  to  rouse  the  blood  of  an  Albanian  ?" 

"  I  manage  very  well,  your  Excellency,   if  I  may  say  so. 


NIGHT  ON  THE  BLACK  SEA  155 

It  is  only  Tatiana  Feodorovna,  who  cannot  see  me  without 
muttering  '  Heathen  '  and  crossing  herself.  So  she  has  done 
each  summer  we  have  been  at  Priluka." 

"  Never  mind  her,  Yussuf."  Anna  had  reappeared,  and 
slipping  one  little  hand  into  her  father's,  looked  up  at  the 
kavass.  "  She  doesn't  like  me  either.  Tanya  doesn't  care 
for  anyone  but  mama  and  Sergei." 

"  Don't  talk  nonsense,  child.  .  .  .  Thanks,  Yussuf,  there 
was  nothing  more." 

"  You  didn't  bring  your  doll,  dear,"  said  Karatayef,  when 
Yussuf  had  gone. 

"  Mama  wouldn't  let  me."  The  child  was  evidently 
disappointed,  but  she  did  not  evince  the  least  inclination  to 
cry.  There  was  a  queer,  thoughtful  look  on  her  face. 

"  Why  not  ?" 

"  Mama  didn't  like  to  be  bothered — the  dolly  is  in  her 
bag,  you  know." 

"  But  couldn't  you  ask  Miss  Warden  or  Jeannette  ?" 

"  I  don't  know.  Mama  just  said  she  couldn't  be 
bothered." 

"  Oh,  we'll  manage  that  all  right;  I'll  go  and  see." 

"  Oh,  please  not,  papa;  mama  will  be  angry.  I  can  stay 
here  with  you  and  think  of  grandpapa;  and  I  won't  bother 
you." 

"  You  found  some  warm  things,  I  see." 

"  Yes,  mama  told  Jeannette  to  give  me  them  before  she 
began  to  be  ill,  you  know."  Jeannette  was  Katya's  maid, 
who  also  did  duty  as  half -nurse  to  the  children. 

"  We'll  walk  about  up  here  for  a  little,  shall  we,  Anna  ? 
It's  much  nicer  here  than  in  the  stuffy  cabins." 

The  ship  ploughed  steadily  forward,  with  the  wind  astern, 
rolling  a  little,  but  scarcely  pitching  at  all.  The  blue-green 
waves  seemed  trying  to  race  the  splendid  ship,  always  giving 
up  the  contest,  however,  and  breaking  in  a  froth  of  foam. 

"  Papa,  may  I  talk  to  you  ?" 

"  Of  course,  dear,  what  is  it  ?" 

"  Why  is  it  called  '  Tchernoye  More  ' — Black  Sea  ?" 

"  It  has  nothing  to  do  with  the  colour,  dear.  '  Black  ' 
simply  means  '  dark,  dangerous ' — because  it  is  so  stormy 
and  wild.  Just  a  name,  that's  all." 

"  I  see."     There  was  a  pause,  and  then  the  child  spoke 


150  KA  i  YA 

again,  half  to  herself.  "  Poor  grandpapa,  always  to  live  by 
the  Black  Sea." 

"  But  it  can  be  beautiful,  dear,  at  times — like  the  Bosphorus 
and  the  Marmora,  that  you  liked  so  much." 

"  You  have  sailed  here  many  times,  papa,  haven't  you  ?" 

"  We  all  must,  little  one — to  and  fro  between  Russia  and 
the  Balkans." 

"  I  wish  you  were  not  sailing  here  now,  papa." 

"  Why,  dear  ?" 

"  I  don't  know.     But  I  am  afraid.     And  so  is  grandpapa." 

"  Nonsense,  child.  I'm  sure  grandpapa  has  never  said 
anything  of  the  kind." 

"  No,  but  I  know  he  is,  all  the  same." 

They  walked  up  and  down  in  silence  for  some  minutes. 
Then  Anna  spoke  again  : 

"  Are  there  very  many  people  in  mama's  houses  by  the 
Black  Sea  ?" 

"  Yes,  many  families  live  there." 

"  I  should  not  like  to  live  in  them,  papa.  And  you  must 
never  go  there." 

"  Why,  child,  what  do  you  mean  ?"  He  smiled  down  at 
her  indulgently,  but  the  girl  merely  shook  her  head  and  said 
nothing. 

The  wind  was  getting  up  now,  and  the  ship  began  to  roll. 
The  promenade  deck  was  almost  deserted.  Karatayef  and 
his  little  daughter  gave  up  making  the  full  round,  and  kept 
to  the  lee-side. 

"  How  are  you  feeling  up  here,"  asked  Madame  Karatayef, 
wrestling  with  the  door  of  the  saloon.  "  We  are  all  utterly 
miserable  down  below.  Miss  Warden  and  Jeannette  are 
quite  helpless  already.  Sergei  doesn't  like  it.  I  have  handed 
him  over  to  Yussuf  who  doesn't  look  very  bright  himself." 

"  Oh,  we're  all  right,  aren't  we,  Anna  ?  And  you,  Katya  ?" 

"  Oh,  the  Black  Sea  never  troubles  me  in  the  least.  But 
I  am  weary  of  all  this  travelling  and  shifting  from  one  place 
to  another." 

"  I  thought  you  were  lying  down." 

"  Not  at  all;  I  only  went  down  to  get  some  warmer  things 
on." 

"  Then  surely  you  might  have  given  the  child  her  doll." 
There  was  a  touch  of  bitterness  in  his  tone. 


NIGHT  ON  THE  BLACK  SEA  157 

"  Oh,  for  Heaven's  sake,  don't  begin  about  that  now,  Niki ! 
And  she  couldn't  play  with  it  up  here.  It  would  be  spoiled 
in  no  time." 

"  I  would  never  spoil  things  grandpapa  gives  me,"  inter- 
posed the  child  quietly. 

"  Give  me  your  keys,  Katya;  I  am  going  down  to  get  it," 
said  Karatayef,  in  a  tone  which  forbade  further  discussion. 

"  Very  well."  She  handed  him  a  bunch  of  keys.  "  It's 
in  the  green  bag.  See  what  a  lot  of  trouble  you  make  for  us 
all,"  she  added,  turning  to  the  child. 

Anna  followed  her  father  down  below,  returning  a  few 
minutes  later  with  the  doll  and  all  its  various  belongings. 
Karatayef  placed  her  in  a  corner  of  the  saloon  by  one  of  the 
broad  windows,  where  he  could  see  her  as  they  walked  up 
and  down  outside. 

"  You  spoil  the  child,  you  and  your  father  between  you," 
said  Katya  to  her  husband.  "  The  Tsar's  daughter  has  not 
such  dolls  as  Anna;  and  it  is  not  the  dolls  alone,  they  only 
cost  money,  but  all  the  clothes  he  sends  with  them.  Silk 
embroidery  that  is  not  to  be  matched  anywhere,  and  must 
have  taken  months  to  work.  It's  unnatural,  Niki ;  you  ought 
to  stop  it." 

"  Really,  I  don't  know  why.  They  are  both  so  happy 
about  the  gifts,  why  spoil  their  pleasure  when  it  does  no 
harm  ?  Oughtn't  we  to  go  and  see,"  he  broke  off,  "  how 
Sergei  is  getting  on  ?" 

"  I  told  you  Yussuf  is  looking  after  him." 

"  But  if  Yussuf  begins  to  feel  bad  himself — you  know  he's 
"no  sailor." 

"  My  dear  Niki,  there  are  three  or  four  stewardesses  below. 
Is  it  impossible  for  you  to  remain  alone  with  me  for  five 
minutes  ?" 

"  Katya,  I  have  asked  you  that  many  times  in  all  these 
years." 

"  Now  you  are  trying  to  hurt  me.  And  you  know  how  it 
always  upsets  me  to  leave  Priluka  and  Ukraine.  When  shall 
we  see  St.  Vladimir's  Cross  again,  I  wonder  ?  It  may  be 
years  and  years." 

"  For  me,  perhaps;  but  not  for  you  and  the  children;  at 
least,  I  hope  not.  Please  God,  you  may  go  back  again  next 
summer.  And  it  would  perhaps  be  best  to  let  Anna  at  least 


remain  in  Russia  after  next  year.  We  must  send  her  to 
school.  You  were  only  twelve  yourself  when  you  went  to 
Kief,  and  you  know  how  sadly  her  Russian  education  has 
been  neglected." 

"  I  had  Sonya,  and  it  is  no  distance  to  speak  of  from  Kief 
to  Priluka,  and  papa  always  came  to  see  us  once  or  twice  a 
year.  But  from  Kief  to  Stradovo — my  dear  Niki,  it  is  half- 
way across  the  world." 

"  Are  you  sorry  I  accepted  the  post  ?" 

"  Oh,  Niki,  don't  begin  again.     It  is  unkind  of  you." 

"  I  do  not  wish  to  be  so,  Katya.  But  I  have  asked  myself 
many  times  if  it  were  not  too  much  to  expect  of  you  and  the 
children  ...  a  little  out-of-the-way  town  in  Macedonia,  with 
practically  no  society,  ill-will  against  us  both  from  Turks 
and  Albanians,  danger  always  threatening.  ...  It  may  be 
harder  than  you  had  thought,  Katya,  after  what  you  have 
been  accustomed  to." 

She  took  his  arm  and  pressed  it  to  her  side. 

"  Niki,  have^I  ever  tried  to  keep  you  back  from  difficulty 
or  danger  ?" 

"  No,  it  is  true.  You  have  always  been  as  brave  as  the 
bravest.  I  shall  never  forget  that  time  in  Trebizond,  and 
the  Armenian  massacres.  I  see  you  now,  riding  through  the 
streets  with  the  kavasses  behind,  and  the  Armenians  on 
every  side  greeting  you  as  a  queen,  while  the  Mohammedans 
threatened.  .  .  .  The  Ambassador  didn't  like  it.  You  re- 
member what  he  wrote  to  me  ?  But  save  that  first  year  in 
St.  Petersburg,  I  have  never  been  so  happy  with  you  as  in 
those  months  at  Trebizond  —  Cossack,  my  brave  little 
Cossack !" 

"  And  now  we  are  going  to  take  Stradovo  by  storm — you 
and  I  together,  Niki.  They  shall  be  proud  of  us — the  old 
Ambassador  and  all.  He  has  never  forgiven  me  riding  up 
to  the  Turks  that  day  in  Trebizond,  and  telling  them  that  the 
Armenian  prisoners  were  under  my  protection.  But  what 
else  were  we  there  for  ?  Old  Korenof  gave  me  a  long  lecture 
when  we  got  back,  and  told  me  I  might  have  been  the  cause 
of  Russia's  humiliation.  Dear  old  man — his  idea  of  diplo- 
matic activity  is  sitting  in  an  office  or  lounging  over  a  dinner- 
table.  He  reminds  me  at  times  of  Miliukin  in  Paris." 

"  But  you  know,  dear,  that  Stradovo  is  a  much  smaller 


NIGHT  ON  THE  BLACK  SEA  159 

place  than  Trebizond.  And  we  are  not  going  there  for  a 
couple  of  months.  We  may  be  there  for  years.  The  danger, 
too,  is  different.  It  is  not  only  the  Turkish  authorities  we 
have  to  contend  with,  but  the  whole  of  the  Mohammedan 
population,  and  the  Albanians  in  particular.  It  will  be  like 
living  in  a  fort,  in  a  continual  state  of  siege.  The  mere 
arrival  of  a  Russian  Consul  may  be  sufficient  to  cause  a  riot. 
The  Albanians  are  furious  at  the  Forte's  having  allowed  us  to 
establish  a  post  at  Stradovo.  They  don't  like  to  have  their 
movements  watched ;  they  prefer  to  be  left  alone  with  the 
Christians,  to  do  as  they  please.  And  when  the  Austrian 
envoy  has  been  there  now  for  a  couple  of  months  without 
having  had  any  trouble  with  them,  I  should  not  be  surprised 
if  he  had  made  alliance  with  one  or  two  of  the  Albanian  tribes 
in  order  to  show  at  the  first  opportunity  how  Russia  is  hated 
throughout  the  Balkans.  It  will  be  a  difficult  post,  Katya, 
and  dangerous.  I  told  you  it  would  be." 

"  I  am  only  glad  to  hear  it,  Niki.  No  Minister  with  a  silly 
stuck-up  wife  to  patronize  us,  as  at  Belgrade;  no  cautious 
old  Ambassador  to  look  after  us,  as  at  Constantinople,  and 
none  of  the  miserable  petty  provincial  society  as  at  Salonika, 
where  I  felt  all  the  time  that  the  Consul- General  and  the 
Baroness  were  only  trying  to  make  us  feel  how  insignificant 
they  thought  us.  Of  course,  it  won't  be  like  Trebizond. 
But,  at  least,  we  shall  be  left  to  ourselves,  and  first  in  order 
of  precedence.  As  for  the  Austrian,  we'll  soon  vanquish 
him  /" 

"  You  know  who  it  is — Eichwald.  You  remember  him 
from  the  first  year  at  Constantinople.  He  has  been  at 
Skoplie  and  Bitolya  since  then." 

"  Man  with  the  Polish  wife,  who  always  dressed  so  out- 
rageously ?" 

"  Yes.  But  he's  clever — smart  little  man.  And  there  will 
be  others  later  on  .  .  ." 

"  Never  mind;  we  shall  get  on  all  right,  you  and  I.  Oh,  if 
I  weren't  so  tired,  I'd  dance  into  Stradovo  !  Now  I  am  going 
down  to  rest  a  little.  If  I  don't  come  up  to  dinner,  you  need 
not  wake  me.  Au  revoir,  my  Lord  of  Stradovo  and  all  thereto 
appertaining  !" 

"  Don't  forget  to  look  in  and  see  to  little  Sergei,  dear." 

The  wind  had  increased.     The  ship  was  groaning  now  as 


160  KATYA 

it  writhed  in  the  rolling  seas.  But  each  time  Consul  Kara- 
tayef  glanced  in  at  his  daughter,  he  saw  the  child  quietly 
busied  with  her  doll  and  its  many  dresses  that  lay  spread  out 
upon  the  sofa  beside  her.  It  seemed  a  something  more  than 
play,  as  though  she  read  in  the  costly  embroidered  silk  some 
secret  writing  which  she  understood,  and  which  filled  her  big 
earnest  eyes  with  a  wonder  of  dreams. 

Great  clouds  came  driving  up  in  the  west,  hiding  the  sunset ; 
the  autumn  darkness  poured  out  beneath  the  low  sky,  and  lay 
heavily  on  the  frothing  restless  sea.  The  lights  went  up  in 
the  saloon;  the  child,  sitting  there  in  the  bright  warmth, 
followed  with  her  eyes  the  fur-clad  figure  pacing  up  and  down 
outside. 

"  I'd  dance  into  Stradovo."  Yes,  that  was  Katya's  way. 
Danger  fascinated  her;  she  sought  it  rather  than  avoided. 
And  she  loved  change;  so  soon  she  had  grown  weary  of  each 
place  where  they  had  been.  Trebizond  was  an  episode,  a 
mission,  which  they  had  both  known  beforehand  had  but  a 
single  object.  At  Belgrade  she  had  been  frankly  bored;  it 
was  no  part  for  her,  the  role  of  patronized  young  pupil  under 
the  motherly  proteetion  of  a  well-meaning  Minister's  wife  who 
was  her  inferior  in  intelligence.  Constantinople  had  inter- 
ested her  at  first,  but  the  Ambassador  had  wearied  her 
terribly.  Ever  since  the  affair  at  Trebizond  he  had  regarded 
her  with  a  mixture  of  admiration  and  anxiety.  "  My  dear 
Nikolai  Nikolaievitch,"  he  had  said,  "  I  admit  that  your 
charming  lady  is  as  brave  as  any  Cossack  from  her  own 
Ukraine;  unfortunately,  however,  we  cannot  permit  her  to 
be  plenipotentiary  in  matters  of  war  and  peace.  I  have 
endeavoured  to  make  her  understand  this,  but  I  fear  I  have 
not  succeeded."  The  prudent  old  man  had  at  one  time 
devoted  almost  as  much  of  his  time  to  Katya  as  he  spent  on 
the  Grand  Vizier,  regarding  each  as  a  sort  of  sympathetic 
enemy,  from  whom  he  might  expect  unpleasant  surprises  at 
any  moment.  But  as  Katya  never  plotted  save  in  her  own 
personal  interest,  the  Ambassador  had  little  profit  of  his  pains ; 
her  sudden  impulses  and  their  resulting  action  were  as  difficult 
for  him  as  for  Niki  to  foresee  or  prevent.  The  Grand  Vizier 
was  a  far  more  satisfactory  subject;  moreover,  he  had  appar- 
ently no  objection  to  being  studied  and  observed,  regarding 
it,  no  doubt,  as  an  unavoidable  attribute  to  his  high  office. 


NIGHT  ON  THE  BLACK  SEA  161 

Katya,  on  the  other  hand,  revealed  most  frank  resentment, 
and  Niki  had  noticed  with  anxiety  how  she  had  treated  his 
chief  for  weeks  at  a  time  with  the  careless  hauteur  one  extends 
to  a  discarded  favourite.  It  was  at  this  time  that  a  post 
fell  vacant  at  the  Consulate- General  in  Salonika;  the  Am- 
bassador advised  him  to  apply,  pointing  out  that  it  would 
mean  not  only  advancement,  but  would  serve  as  the  introduc- 
tion to  a  special  study,  the  importance  of  which  was  yearly 
increasing — viz.,  the  Macedonian  question,  with  all  its 
branches.  And  as  Katya  wanted  a  change,  Niki  followed  the 
advice  of  his  chief,  and  received  the  appointment.  But  he 
recollected  how  the  Ambassador  had  let  fall  on  the  same  day 
an  apparently  careless  observation  about  one  of  the  many 
more  or  less  apocryphal  sayings  attributed  to  Bismarck.  It 
was  on  the  occasion  of  his  appointment  as  Russian  Am- 
bassador at  St.  Petersburg  in  1859,  when  Prince  Wilhelm, 
as  Regent,  not  daring  either  to  give  him  a  place  in  the  Govern- 
ment or  allow  him  to  retain  his  seat  at  Frankfurt  on  account 
of  his  open  hostility  to  Austria,  had  chosen  this  diplomatic 
resource.  And  Bismarck,  when  referring  to  the  matter 
afterwards,  was  wont  to  say,  "  Ich  wurde  kalt  gestellt,  wie 
Champagner,  zum  spateren  Gebrauch."  And  Niki  knew  only 
too  well  to  whom  his  chief  referred. 

Katya  had,  however,  soon  found  Salonika  unbearable. 
After  Constantinople,  the  place  seemed  like  a  middle-class 
province,  neither  one  thing  nor  the  other.  Korenof  at 
Constantinople  had  always  one  good  point,  in  Katya's  eyes: 
he  had  no  wife  with  him,  that  lady  preferring  to  spend  in 
Russia  such  time  as  her  husband  remained  in  Turkey,  and 
residing  for  preference  in  Paris  when  he  happened  to  be  in 
Russia.  The  Consul-General  at  Salonika,  however,  a  Baron 
Hochstadt,  had  a  very  evident  Baroness:  the  descendant, 
like  her  husband,  of  an  ancient  and  distinguished  noble  house 
from  the  Baltic  provinces.  Baroness  Hochstadt  regarded  it  as 
her  special  duty  to  convince  Katya  of  the  fact  that  she 
neither  could  nor  should  attempt  to  shine  with  any  degree  of 
lustre  beyond  the  modest  brilliance  which  might  be  conceded 
to  the  wife  of  a  Vice-Consul  at  a  post  where  the  Consul-General 
possessed  a  spouse  of  such  unparalleled  dignity.  The 
Baroness  knew  nothing  of  any  Katya,  nothing  even  of  a 
"  petite  Rilinski;"  for  her  there  existed  only  "  that  charming 


162  KATYA 

little  thing,  my  husband's  new  Vice-Consul's  wife."  Such  an 
attitude  must  inevitably  lead  to  war.  And  perhaps  Katya 
was  not  wholly  in  the  wrong.  But  she  knew  no  mercy,  and 
spared  no  one.  .  .  . 

Stradovo  had  appeared  as  a  new  and  unexpected  move  on 
the  part  of  Austria  against  its  great  rival  in  the  Balkans. 
And  Karatayef  was  eager  to  take  this  difficult  and  dangerous 
post.  Hochstadt,  who  was  extremely  well  disposed  towards 
his  young  second-in-command,  recommended  him  warmly 
to  Korenof,  and  the  Baroness  had  used  all  her  influence  to 
secure  the  appointment  for  Katya's  husband.  Korenof  had 
felt  some  scruples,  but  vanquished  them  with  the  argument 
that  Katya  would  never  be  able  to  stand  more  than  a  month, 
or  two  at  the  outside,  in  a  place  like  Stradovo.  And  Niki 
received  the  post.  Some  of  the  younger  and  more  ambitious 
of  his  colleagues  envied  him;  to  most,  however,  it  was  in- 
comprehensible that  a  man  of  his  wealth  and  position  should 
choose  to  bury  himself  in  such  a  den  of  thieves — unless.  .  .  . 

Anna  knocked  at  the  window  and  beckoned  to  her  father 
to  come  in.  In  her  quiet,  old-fashioned  way  she  had  laid  all 
the  dresses  neatly  folded  in  a  heap,  and  now  she  wanted  to 
go  down  to  her  cabin. 

"  No,  papa,  I  am  not  ill ;  but  I'm  so  tired  of  thinking  of  poor 
grandpapa." 

"  Why  poor,  Anna  dear  ?     You  said  that  before." 

"  He's  so  sorry  you  and  I  have  gone  away,  and  he  doesn't 
like  your  going  to  Stradovo." 

"  Anna,  what  nonsense  have  you  been  making  up  in  your 
head  all  this  time  ?  Your  grandfather  has  never  said  a  word 
about  Stradovo." 

"  No,  papa,  but  I  know  it  is  so,  all  the  same."  She  gathered 
up  the  precious  silks  and  held  them  close  to  her  breast. 

"  It's  time  you  went  down  to  sleep,  little  one.  Give  me  one 
hand — so,  and  hold  on  tightly  when  the  ship  rolls." 

Little  Sergei  lay  fast  asleep  in  his  bunk,  still  pale,  however, 
from  recent  trouble.  Consul  Karatayef  called  one  of  the 
stewardesses  to  attend  to  Anna,  and  bring  her  tea  or  anything 
she  wanted.  There  was  a  deal  of  sea-sickness  on  board.  Miss 
Warden  and  Jeannette  could  be  heard  complaining  in  their 
respective  tongues ;  Yussuf  had  effaced  himself,  that  none  might 
witness  his  distress.  Katya  was  apparently  asleep,  or  resting. 


NIGHT  ON  THE  BLACK  SEA  163 

At  dinner  the  Consul  found  himself  practically  alone  with 
the  Captain,  who  talked  Stradovo  to  the  exclusion  of  all  other 
topics.  Six  months  earlier,  the  Russian  public  had  been 
peacefully  unaware  of  the  small  town's  existence;  now,  how- 
ever, it  formed  the  subject  of  long  articles  in  the  papers,  and 
was  elevated  to  the  dignity  of  a  first-class  political  problem 
in  the  Russo-Austrian  conflict  in  the  Balkans.  The  Captain 
of  the  Tsar  Nikolai  II.,  who  knew  the  Karatayefs  from  earlier 
voyages,  inquired  with  deep  interest  into  the  position  of  affairs 
at  Niki's  new  post. 

"  You  are  already  famous,  Nikolai  Nikolaievitch,"  he  said — 
"  famous  at  four-  or  five-and-thirty,  I  say  it  is  worthy  of  all 
praise,  that  you  and  your  wife  forsake  Constantinople,  with 
its  dances  and  festivity,  to  uphold  the  name  of  Russia  against 
these  rascally  Austrians  that  do  nothing  but  weave  plots 
with  the  Turks  and  Albanians.  Good  that  we  have  young 
men  of  your  stamp  in  the  service:  I  wish  there  were  more  of 
them  !" 

"  In  my  opinion,"  said  Karatayef  quietly,  "  far  too  much 
fuss  has  been  made  about  this  Stradovo  affair  already.  I 
should  not  be  surprised  if  the  Ambassador  were  to  send  in  a 
note  to  St.  Petersburg  asking  them  to  keep  the  papers  quiet  a 
little." 

"  Yes,  he  is  a  good  man,  Korenof.  I  have  sailed  the  Black 
Sea  for  eight-and-twenty  years,  and  carried  many  an  Am- 
bassador between  Constantinople  and  Odessa.  I  know  some- 
thing of  affairs  down  there,  ay,  and  the  men  that  manage 
them.  A  shrewder  old  fox  than  Korenof  we  have  never  had 
in  that  corner,  and  when  he  has  chosen  you  for  a  post  like  this, 
why,  then  I  say  it's  because  he  knows  you're  the  best  man  for 
the  work,  Nikolai  Nikolaievitch — and  so  you  are." 

"  I  think  the  danger  has  been  greatly  exaggerated." 

"  But  as  for  Ekaterina  Sergeievna,  I  say  it  is  bravely  done. 
Not  that  I  am  surprised  at  her  going  with  you ;  that  affair  in 
Trebizond  showed  that  she  likes  to  be  in  the  hottest  corner. 
But  a  lady  as  she  is,  with  maids  and  finery  and  all  that,  going 
off  without  wincing  to  bury  herself  in  a  miserable  hole  on  the 
Albanian  frontier — I  say  it's  magnificent,  Nikolai  Nikolaie- 
vitch. She  is  worthy  of  you  and  our  country,  say  I,  and  I 
don't  care  who  knows  that  Captain  Golovin  has  said  so  !" 

The  storm  whined  and  sang  through  the  rigging,  flinging 


164  KATYA 

the  smoke  from  the  funnels  in  torn  black  rags  of  cloud,  that 
were  swiftly  swallowed  up  in  the  darkness.  The  waves  fell 
crashing  against  the  sides,  and  frothed  up  under  bow  and 
stern.  Now  and  again  a  sudden  shower  of  hail  rattled  against 
glass  and  metal  with  a  noise  as  of  musketry. 

Consul  Karatayef  sat  in  a  corner  of  the  deserted  smoke- 
room,  trying  to  read.  But  his  own  thoughts  were  importu- 
nate. .  .  .  Everyone  said  the  same;  Katya  had  made  a  great 
sacrifice  in  going  with  him  to  Stradovo.  His  father  was  the 
only  one  who  had  not  touched  upon  the  subject.  Princess 
Rilinski  had  thanked  her  daughter,  in  her  quiet,  gentle  way, 
for  standing  by  her  husband  so  faithfully,  and  there  had  been 
something  like  reproach  in  Anastasia  Grigorievna's  eyes  as 
she  bade  Niki  watch  over  her  daughter  at  the  distant,  lonely, 
and  dangerous  post.  Vladimir  Shipagin  had  said  outright 
that  he  could  not  understand  how  Niki- dared  to  take  such  a 
responsibility.  And  all  his  colleagues  at  Constantinople  and 
Salonika,  both  Russian  and  foreign,  what  did  they  not  think, 
what  might  they  not  say,  at  their  dinner-tables  and  in  their 
clubs  ? 

No  one  would  believe  that  she  had  been  more  eager  than 
himself  to  obtain  the  post ;  the  elders  would  ask  if  she  were  so 
utterly  indifferent  with  regard  to  her  children  and  their 
education ;  the  younger  ones  would  smile  and  let  her  under- 
stand that  whatever  attractions  Stradovo  might  have  to 
offer,  she  would  have  no  court  there;  no  faithful  circle  of 
admiring  worshippers;  no  troubadours  to  sing  beneath  her 
window,  or  love-sick  pages  to  sigh  and  dream,  all  ready  to 
obey  her  lightest  whim.  An  old  Greek  bishop,  a  few  priests 
and  Servian  schoolmasters,  one  or  two  Turkish  officials  and 
officers — that  was  all  she  would  have,  with  the  exception  of  the 
Austrian  Consul,  who  could  scarcely  be  expected  to  do  homage 
within  the  alien  precincts  of  the  Russian  Consulate.  Why 
should  she  suddenly  try  to  persuade  people  that  she  had  begun 
to  long  for  solitude,  and  to  despise  the  meretricious  delights 
of  society,  which  hitherto  had  seemed  to  be  as  indispensable  to 
her  as  the  breath  she  drew  ? 

Niki  knew  well  what  answer  many-tongued  scandal  would 
find  to  all  these  queries.  Where  he  and  she  were  known,  the 
same  would  everywhere  be  said — that  he  had  forced  her  to  it ; 
that  he,  in  his  unreasoning,  heartless  jealousy,  sought  to  hold 


NIGHT  ON  THE  BLACK  SEA  165 

her  captive  in  Stradovo,  as  in  a  convent.  When  the  Russian 
papers  called  him  a  hero  for  accepting  such  an  exposed  and 
dangerous  post,  when  the  Ambassador  and  others  in  Con- 
stantinople spoke  of  his  zeal  in  the  service,  how  easy  for 
malicious  rumour  to  explain  it  all  destructively  as  the  last 
resource  of  a  jealous  man,  or  at  least,  the  prudent  precaution 
of  a  watchful  husband,  anxious  to  remove  his  young,  light- 
hearted  wife  from  all  possibilities  of  temptation.  And  his 
speedy  advancement  from  Belgrade  to  Constantinople,  from 
Salonika  to  the  independent  post  at  Stradovo,  was  it  not  due 
less  to  his  own  capability  and  merit  than  to  the  earnest  desire 
of  various  wives  of  Consuls-General  and  Ambassadors  to  get 
rid  of  Katya  at  any  cost ;  or  old  Korenof 's  anxiety  lest  the 
champagne  should  explode  disastrously  before  its  time  ? 

Thus  they  would  talk  at  their  clubs  and  their  dinners.  All 
the  men  would  side  with  Katya,  with  an  indulgent  smile  at 
honest,  heavy  Karatayef ;  all,  save,  perhaps,  George  Farring- 
ham.  Niki  was  well  aware  that  Katya  cared  more  for  this 
one  man  than  for  all  the  others  who  paid  her  homage.  She 
had  been  honestly  glad  to  see  him  at  Belgrade,  and  when  his 
transfer  to  Constantinople  some  months  after  their  own  again 
brought  them  together,  she  had  made  no  secret  of  being 
pleased  at  the  circumstance.  But  Farringham  was  no 
tempter,  no  polished  smiling  villain  that  sought  to  draw  her 
from  her  allegiance  to  her  home  and  her  children ;  he  treated 
her  with  the  most  courtly  respect,  and  frequently  exhibited 
a  tactfulness  which  Niki  was  forced  to  admit  exceeded  Katya's 
and  his  own.  He  was  kind  and  attentive  to  the  children,  and 
even  if  Anna  did  not  seem  to  like  him,  he  had  at  least  won 
little  Sergei's  heart  entirely.  He  sought  Niki's  friendship, 
and  it  was  hard  to  refuse  the  confidence  and  affection  of  a 
friend  to  a  man  so  just  and  high-minded  as  Farringham  always 
had  proved.  No,  little  Sergei's  "  Uncle  George  "  would  never 
laugh  at  Sergei's  father  behind  his  back,  or  speak  slightingly 
of  him,  as  the  others.  Rather,  he  would  take  up  arms  on 
behalf  of  both  Katya  and  her  husband  when  ill-disposed 
rumour  attacked  them.  Him,  at  least,  one  could  safely  trust. 

Niki  felt  at  times  almost  inclined  to  confide  in  Farringham ; 
he  needed  a  human  being  to  whom  he  could  speak  openly  and 
without  reserve.  He  knew  all  that  scandal  whispered  of 
himself;  could  speak  with  its  voice  and  use  its  very  words. 


i66  KATYA 

And  all  was  echoed  from  the  depths  of  his  own  soul,  revealing 
thoughts  which  he  strove  to  hide  from  others — often  even 
from  himself.  It  would  be  a  relief,  as  of  a  cool  hand's  touch 
on  a  burning  forehead,  if  George  Farringham,  with  his  chival- 
rous truthfulness,  his  frank,  manly  honesty,  could  convince 
him  that  he  was  mistaken,  that  the  anxieties  that  rent  his 
heart  were  without  foundation  in  reality. 

If  only  the  children  could  be  more  to  her,  and  she  to  them ; 
if  but  his  own  work  interested  her  a  little  ...  if  he  himself  could 
mean  a  little  more  to  her  in  her  restless  life  ...  if  only  there 
were  anything  which  could  occupy  her  thoughts,  take  root  in 
her  being,  and  give  her  a  refuge  of  peace.  Whatever  it  were, 
he  would  cherish  and  nourish  it  with  all  his  power,  thankful 
that  it  existed.  But  this  eternal  fear  of  losing  her,  now  for 
one,  now  for  another  who  won  her  momentary  favour  by 
service  and  homage,  or  whom  she  herself  endeavoured  for  a 
time  to  bring  into  subjection  ...  it  was  beyond  his  power  to 
endure.  The  two  first  years  in  St.  Petersburg,  where  Anna 
had  been  born,  had  given  him  a  happiness  such  as  he  had 
never  dared  to  dream  of.  But  soon  after  the  death  of  the  boy 
Katya  had  begun  to  turn  from  her  husband  and  her  home, 
seeking  amusement,  admiration,  conquest.  The  birth  of 
little  Sergei  in  Belgrade  had  brought  them  closer  again,  per- 
haps, for  a  time;  Niki,  at  least,  had  believed  it,  and  had  dared 
to  dream  again  of  enduring  happiness  with  her.  But  it  soon 
ended.  Soon  she  began  once  more  to  seek  the  sunshine,  like 
a  butterfly,  eager  to  see  and  be  seen  in  her  brilliant  youth. 
Constantinople,  with  its  broader  stage  and  greater  crowd  of 
admiring  spectators,  rendered  her  at  once  bolder  and  more 
arrogant;  she  brooked  no  woman  on  a  level  with  herself  in 
men's  regard.  First  and  always  she  claimed  their  admira- 
tion ;  her  time,  her  thoughts,  were  spent  on  this  game  of 
shorter  or  longer  sieges  which  should  inevitably  end  with 
victory  for  herself;  aught  else  meant  shame  and  humiliation 
unbearable.  She  raged  through  Salonika  like  a  storm,  fanning 
to  flame  each  lightest  spark  that  glowed.  But  she  never  saw, 
in  all  this  hurrying  triumph,  how  the  hearth  in  her  own  home 
grew  cold  and  grey. 

Niki  tried  often  to  comfort  himself  with  the  thought  that 
all  this  extravagance  must  weary  herself  at  last,  and  that  the 
very  multitude  of  her  campaigns  meant  safety  for  himself. 


NIGHT  ON  THE  BLACK  SEA  167 

The  pity  was,  that  each  new  war,  each  latest  victory,  rilled 
all  her  being  as  a  wonderful  experience  never  before  encoun- 
tered. And  each  time  he  feared  lest  the  fire  with  which  she 
played  thus  carelessly  should  burst  at  last  into  flame  within 
herself.  Peace  and  rest  were  for  him  long  since  but  names 
of  things  forgotten.  Heaviest  of  all  was  yet  his  longing  to 
win  her  back.  There  were  moments,  rare  moments,  when  he 
fancied  that  she  understood.  Might  it  not  be  that  she  also 
longed  to  find  herself  once  more,  by  pious  pilgrimage  to  the 
shrine  of  her  earliest  love  ?  Perhaps  it  had  not  been  merely 
the  thirst  for  danger  and  adventure  which  had  led  her  to  seek 
this  post  at  Stradovo.  .  .  . 

But  she  was  long  in  coming.  And  he  was  waiting.  She 
stayed  out  in  the  sunshine,  her  eyes  turned  from  him,  never 
knowing  that  he  stood  there  all  the  time  stretching  out  silently 
appealing  arms  for  aid.  She  fluttered  on  her  way  from  flower 
to  flower,  never  heeding  the  quiet  voices  that  called — voices 
of  home  and  children,  of  memory  and  longing.  .  .  .  She  left 
him  to  his  loneliness.  In  spite  of  all  the  restless,  noisy 
struggle  of  their  life,  in  spite  of  the  fever-pulsed  anxiety  and 
doubt  in  his  own  mind,  there  was  silence  all  about  him,  like  a 
magic  circle  drawn.  His  senses  grew  more  acute;  he  seemed 
to  hear  his  own  heart  beating,  and  the  sound  of  voices  in  a  dis- 
tance, whispering,  warning ;  and  always  he  remembered,  more 
and  more  clearly,  the  little  sobbing  gasp  that  shadowed  like 
a  ghost  the  recollection  of  his  own  winning  on  that  summer 
day  at  Priluka;  a  ghost  of  broken  hope  and  faith  betrayed.  .  .  . 

Nikolai  Karatayef  rose  and  buttoned  his  heavy  coat  about 
him.  Better  to  try  if  peace  were  to  be  found  outside,  in  the 
stormy  dark. 

The  wind  wrenched  the  door  from  his  grasp,  flinging  him 
over  against  the  railing,  where  he  stood  clinging  breathlessly 
to  a  stanchion.  Beneath  him  the  seas  were  frothing  forth 
and  back,  now  opening  embracing  chasms,  now  flung  up  like 
a  huge  black  wall  that  leaned  a  moment  threatening,  ere  it 
broke  in  a  fury  of  foam. 

The  noise  was  deafening;  the  slash  of  mingled  rain  and 
spray  blinded  his  eyes  and  numbed  his  clinging  hands. 

Voices — was  it  voices  he  heard  calling — or  only  dreams 
again  ? 

He  felt  the  grasp  of  strong  arms  that  tore  him  from  his 


168  KATYA 

hold.  He  struggled  against  them,  still  half  dazed,  and 
warring  against  something,  he  knew  not  what. 

"  For  Heaven's  sake,  come  !     It  is  madness,  it  is  death  !" 

One  of  the  ship's  officers,  with  a  sailor,  dragged  him  into 
the  lighted  saloon. 

"  We  have  been  looking  for  your  Excellency  everywhere. 
It  was  the  merest  chance  that  we  caught  sight  of  you  out  there. 
It  almost  looked  as  though  you  courted  death  !" 

"  But  why  ?    Why  look  for  me  ?    What  is  the  matter  ?" 

"  Your  Excellency's  little  daughter  is  crying  and  calling  for 
her  father.  A  steward  has  looked  everywhere  to  find  you,  but 
in  vain.  Then  the  Captain  told  us  to  try  the  deck,  .  .  ." 

"  Thanks.     I'm  sorry  to  have  given  you  so  much  trouble." 

Consul  Karatayef  stumbled  down  to  the  children's  cabin. 
Sergei  was  sleeping,  pale  and  motionless,  as  though  drugged. 
The  girl  lay  with  her  face  buried  in  the  pillows,  her  whole  body 
shaken  with  sobs. 

"  Anna,  Anna  dear,  what  is  it  ?" 

She  turned  at  the  sound  of  his  voice,  and  strove  to  keep 
back  her  sobbing. 

"  Father,  stay  with  me,  and  let  me  hold  your  hand. 
Grandpapa  and  I  are  anxious  about  you ;  we  are  so  afraid." 


CHAPTER  II 

THE  GRAVE   OF  YOUTH 

GENERAL  KARATAYEF  had  left  Priluka  shortly  after  his  son's 
engagement  to  Ekaterina  Sergeievna,  accompanied  by 
Lieutenant  Orloff .  Both  the  Prince  and  his  wife  had  begged 
Petya  to  remain  with  them  as  long  as  his  leave  allowed.  The 
young  man  held  fast,  however,  to  his  decision,  and  when  the 
day  of  departure  arrived,  he  took  his  place  in  the  carriage 
by  the  side  of  the  old  General,  and  waved  farewell  to  them 
all,  thinking  never  to  revisit  the  place  which  he  had  loved 
hitherto  as  his  home. 

General  Karatayef  showed  the  greatest  possible  kindness 
and  sympathy  to  the  young  officer,  both  on  the  journey  and 
during  their  stay  in  Kief.  Lieutenant  Orloff  was,  however, 
not  inclined  to  be  communicative,  and  kept  to  himself. 


THE  GRAVE  OF  YOUTH  169 

When  the  two  men  said  good-bye  to  each  other  in  Odessa, 
the  General  invited  Petya  to  visit  him.  "  And  if  ever  I  can 
be  of  service  to  you  as  an  older  man — if  ever  you  should  need 
help  in  any  way  I  should  be  only  too  delighted.  .  .  ."  Petya 
thanked  him  in  a  few  words,  but  did  not  avail  himself  of  either 
the  invitation  or  the  offer. 

The  Prince  and  Princess  wrote  most  kindly.  Sasha  also 
wrote,  in  his  own  affectionate,  friendly  way,  which  Petya 
knew  and  loved.  But  his  own  answers  were  short  and  said 
but  little.  Prince  Sergei,  as  his  guardian  and  trustee,  handed 
over  his  accounts  on  Petya's  coming  of  age,  at  the  same  time 
placing  a  considerable  sum  of  money  to  his  credit  in  the 
Kherson  Bank,  requesting  the  young  man  to  accept  it  "as 
a  poor  return  for  something  of  the  much  I  owe  to  your  father's 
memory,  and  as  a  token  of  the  affection  in  which  you  your- 
self, my  dear  boy,  are  and  ever  will  be  held  by  us  all."  The 
Princess  added  a  postscript  to  the  letter:  "Whatever  may 
have  happened,  whatever  may  happen  in  the  future,  believe 
me,  dear  Petya,  Sergei  Arkadievitch  and  I  will  always  be 
ready  and  glad  to  receive  you."  Orloffs  first  thought  was  to 
return  the  gift,  but  he  could  not  bring  himself  to  thus  repulse 
their  kindliness.  The  money  remained  untouched  for  years, 
though  he  was  far  from  being  even  comfortably  situated,  and 
could  often  have  found  use  for  it.  The  Princess,  here  as 
ever  a  faithful  friend,  wrote  to  him  on  his  birthday  and  at 
Easter,  telling  him  news  of  all  that  had  happened  at  Priluka; 
nor  did  he  ever  forget  to  send  a  greeting  to  the  Rilinskis  at 
Easter  and  the  principal  feast  days  of  the  year.  To  Katya 
alone  he  never  wrote.  He  was  not  invited  to  her  wedding. 
He  read  in  one  of  the  Odessa  papers  that  it  had  taken  place. 
It  was  best  so.  He  had  no  desire  to  revisit  Priluka,  least  of 
all  on  such  an  occasion.  His  whole  relation  to  the  white 
palace  was  changed.  Letters  from  Priluka  often  lay  for  days 
unopened  on  his  table.  The  very  sight  of  them  filled  him 
with  a  fear  for  which  he  was  unable  to  account.  And  the 
reading  of  them  was  enough  to  shadow  his  existence  for  many 
days  with  an  inexplicable  melancholy  and  bitterness.  There 
was  nothing  of  violence  in  his  mind:  he  felt  only  that  some- 
thing in  himself  was  broken  beyond  repair;  his  youth  passed 
idly,  without  courage  or  ambition ;  a  lonely  struggle  with  no 
definite  object,  filled  only  with  a  fruitless  longing. 


i;o  KATYA 

He  felt  no  anger  towards  Katya.  On  the  contrary,  he 
idolized  her  memory  with  increasing  fervour.  Gradually, 
also,  his  first  feeling  of  enmity  towards  Niki  disappeared. 
With  others'  aid,  Niki  had  succeeded  in  bearing  off  the  prize. 
Well,  it  was  his  right.  It  was  Niki's  own  affair  to  settle  with 
his  conscience  for  the  bitter  disappointment  and  sorrow  he 
had  caused  Sonya.  Till  the  last  day,  even  during  the  few 
moments  between  Alek's  telling  of  the  news  and  the  sight 
of  the  pair  standing  on  the  terrace,  Petya  had  thought  it 
was  to  be  Niki  and  Sonya.  Poor  child ;  she  would  understand 
why  he  left  so  suddenly.  Priluka  had  rarely  known  a  more 
bitter  day  than  that  of  General  Karatayef's  visit.  It  was 
a  costly  victory  the  General  and  his  son  had  won  that  summer 
at  the  white  palace. 

Of  his  sorrow  and  desolation  Petya  Orloff  built  a  throne  for 
Katya.  High  and  far  removed,  she  reigned  over  him.  He 
had  nothing  to  reproach  her  save  only  that  she  had  given 
him  cause  to  hope;  but  in  his  heart  he  knew  that  he  would 
not  for  anything  have  been  without  that  hope;  nay,  more, 
he  cherished  it  still,  in  spite  of  all  that  reason  could  adduce. 
Even  in  his  most  despondent  hours  he  heard  her  voice,  as  of 
his  sovereign,  bidding  him  row — row  hard,  and  let  her  steer. 
For  every  happy  day  that  he  encountered  on  his  cruises  over 
the  far  seas,  for  every  pleasing  impression — a  landscape,  an 
unexpected  meeting  with  a  friend — there  came  to  him  the 
memory  of  Katya  as  she  had  been  that  evening  in  the  boat, 
a  memory  that  stole  upon  his  mood  and  whispered  that  he 
yet  might  hope.  She  appeared  to  him  in  manifold  shape, 
but  dearest  of  them  all  was  the  vision  of  Katya  in  need  of 
kindness  and  protection ;  Katya,  despite  her  queenly  dignity, 
fleeing  to  him  like  a  bird  from  the  shadow  of  the  hawk, 
praying  for  shelter  and  love. 

Up  to  the  day  before  General  Karatayef's  arrival  at 
Priluka,  Katya  had  openly  displayed  her  preference  for 
Lieutenant  Orloff's  society.  It  was  the  General's  interview 
with  the  Prince  which  had  brought  about  the  change.  In 
the  first  sharp  shock  of  his  disappointment  Petya  thought  of 
nothing  but  his  own  misery.  But  as  he  drifted  aimlessly 
about  in  Odessa,  waiting  for  his  leave  to  expire,  he  gradually 
realized  that  General  Karatayef  must  have  had  considerable 
influence  upon  the  decision  of  Katya  and  her  parents.  The 


THE  GRAVE  OF  YOUTH  171 

idea  occurred  to  him  that  the  girl  had  not  acted  of  her  own 
free  will  in  accepting  Niki  Karatayef,  and  as  this  explanation 
cast  a  more  flattering  light  upon  her  action,  while  serving 
as  some  sort  of  consolation  and  restitution  for  himself,  he 
clung  to  it  more  and  more,  until  at  last  he  was  convinced  that 
Katya  had  either  acted  under  pressure  or  had  sacrificed  her- 
self. If  he  had  stayed  on  at  Priluka  she  would  have  told  him 
all  about  it;  but  his  behaviour  on  the  day  of  the  announce- 
ment, and  his  sudden  departure,  had  rendered"  any  explana- 
tion between  them  impossible.  Perhaps  he  had  unwillingly 
made  the  sacrifice  harder  for  her,  and  she  was  too  proud  to 
offer  him  any  justification  of  her  conduct. 

This  view  of  the  matter  took  deep  root  in  Petya  Orloff's 
mind.  Katya  was  a  martyr,  and  he  himself  had  not  been 
treacherously  cast  aside.  Niki's  victory  was  of  less  worth, 
or,  at  any  rate,  less  aggravating  than  it  at  first  appeared. 
And  there  was  an  enemy  whom  he  could  hate. 

The  enemy  was  General  Karatayef. 

Petya  took  great  pains  to  obtain  information  about  this 
eccentric  old  man,  who  inspired  disgust  and  almost  fear  even 
when  he  most  sought  to  be  kind.  Admiral  Orloff's  son  was 
not  without  friends  in  Odessa.  The  name  he  bore  was  known 
and  well  reputed  everywhere  on  the  shores  of  the  Black  Sea. 
It  was  not  long  before  he  got  on  the  right  track.  General 
Karatayef's  and  Prince  Rilinski's  building  operations  in 
Peressip  were  so  extensive,  and  so  many  men  were  directly 
or  indirectly  concerned  in  them,  that  it  proved  an  easier 
matter  than  he  had  imagined  to  obtain  information  on  the 
subject.  He  even  discovered  that  the  work  had  of  late  en- 
countered serious  financial  difficulties.  And  a  good  deal  of 
advice  was  offered  to  him  in  that  regard. 

"  If  you  have  money  to  spare,  Peotr  Konstantinovitch, 
do  not  invest  it  in  these  speculations.  It  won't  be  long  before 
Rilinski's  part  goes  to  pieces.  I  was  out  in  Peressip  a  fort- 
night ago — the  whole  thing  seemed  to  be  at  a  standstill; 
scarcely  so  much  as  a  man  with  a  wheelbarrow  to  be  seen  ! 
No,  Rilinski  has  burnt  his  fingers  over  that  business.  As  for 
old  Karatayef,  that's  another  thing.  He'll  get  out  of  it  all 
right;  always  does.  Take  my  advice  and  leave  it  alone." 

Or  the  advice  would  be  proffered  in  a  more  cautious 
manner : 


r;2  KATYA 

"Well,  I  never;  Konstantin  Orloffs  son  going  in  for 
business  ?  I  didn't  know  your  father  had  left  you  anything 
to  speak  of.  Petya,  my  boy,  be  careful.  Go  and  inquire  at 
the  Kherson  Bank.  It's  a  sharp  firm,  as  Sergei  Arkadievitch 
knows  to  his  cost;  but  honest  enough,  and  wont  cheat  you 
into  putting  your  hard-earned  savings  in  a  shaky  concern. 
Or  there's  Mandelberg  and  Krushofski — you  must  know 
them  from  Priluka.  I've  nothing  to  say  against  them.  Go 
and  see  what  they  say,  but  don't  do  anything  till  you've  told 
me  all  about  it.  If  I  can  give  Konstantin  Orloff's  son  a 
hand  in  any  way  ..." 

Every  expression  of  opinion,  every  item  of  information 
fitted  exactly  into  Petya's  theory.  It  was  like  a  calculation 
which  seemed  to  work  out  with  the  greatest  ease.  It  re- 
mained only  to  see  if  the  result  arrived  at  were  correct. 
Lieutenant  Orloff  determined  to  put  it  to  the  proof. 

Prince  Rilinski  had  for  years,  as  Petya's  guardian,  entrusted 
the  payment  of  the  young  man's  allowance  to  the  house  of 
Mandelberg  and  Krushofski.  There  was  thus  nothing 
remarkable  in  Orloff's  calling  at  the  office  in  the  Konnaya 
and  asking  for  an  interview  with  the  head  of  the  firm. 

"  A  friend  of  mine  has  asked  me  to  apply  to  you  on  his 
behalf,  M.  Mandelberg;  and,  knowing  that  you  have  always 
been  most  kind  in  accommodating  me  ..." 

"  Not  at  all,  my  dear  sir,  not  at  all.  I  have  but  done  my 
duty  towards  Prince  Rilinski's  ward  and  the  heir  to  one  of 
the  most  honoured  names  in  our  navy.  The  slight  advances 
which  you  have  now  and  then  had  occasion  to  draw  are  of 
no  importance.  I  have  been  a  young  man  myself,  and  I 
know  how  difficult  it  is  in  your  profession  to  avoid  occasional 
irregularities  in  the  matter  of  expenditure  ..." 

"  It's  not  a  question  of  advances  this  time.  On  the  con- 
trary, my  friend  is  ...  ahem  .  .  .  comfortably  situated,  and 
having  heard  that  Prince  Rilinski's  operations  in  Peressip 
have  encountered  considerable  difficulties,  and  knowing  my 
close  relation  to  the  family  ..." 

"  Pardon  my  interrupting  you.  Your  action  in  the  matter 
does  you  great  credit.  It  is  what  might  have  been  expected 
of  Admiral  Orloff's  son.  But  you  are  under  a  misappre- 
hension. Prince  Rilinski's  enterprise  is  in  no  sort  of  difficulty 
at  present." 


THE  GRAVE  OF  YOUTH  173 

"  Are  you  quite  certain  of  that  ?" 

"  Perfectly  certain.  And  I  may  add,"  he  went  on  with  a 
smile,  "  that  even  if  your  friend  is,  as  you  say,  '  comfortably 
situated,'  I  doubt  whether  his  means  would  be  sufficient  to 
assist  Prince  Rilinski's  operations  in  case  of  any  difficulty." 

"  But  has  there  not  been  some  little  obstacle  ...  of  late  ? 
Something  in  the  nature  of  crisis  ?  My  friend,  at  any  rate, 
was  under  the  impression  ..." 

"  People  talk,  I  dare  say.  But  it  is  not  my  business  to 
give  information  as  to  my  client's  affairs.  To  you,  however, 
I  may  admit — between  ourselves,  you  understand — that  there 
has  been  a  crisis.  But  you  will  be  kind  enough  to  make  no 
mention  of  the  fact  to  your — er — friend," 

"  And  the  crisis  is  now  safely  over  ?" 

"  Quite.  Your  friend  need  have  no  anxiety  as  to  Prince 
Rilinski  or  his  affairs." 

"  I  am  much  obliged  to  you  for  the  information,  M.  Mandel- 
berg;  I  shall  not  fail  to  let  him  know." 

The  proof  was  clear — Petya  Orloff's  calculation  was  correct. 

He  went  out  to  Peressip.  Already  whole  streets  of  houses 
had  been  erected  down  by  the  Local  Traffic  Harbour.  The 
suburb  extended  farther  and  farther  to  the  north-west  along 
the  coast-line,  which  further  streets,  as  yet  only  indicated, 
would  follow  in  parallel  lines.  The  whole  landscape  here 
was  one  great  building  site.  Hundreds  of  workmen  were 
busy  digging  foundations,  raising  scaffoldings,  building  walls, 
and  mixing  mortar,  while  rows  of  carts  discharged  their  loads 
of  lime  and  bricks.  A  fortnight  ago  the  place  had  been 
deserted,  now  all  was  activity.  A  giant  enterprise  was  in 
progress  on  the  shores  of  the  Black  Sea. 

In  the  midst  of  the  busy  crowd  Petya  caught  sight  of  a  little 
old  man  in  uniform,  stooping  every  now  and  then  as  though 
to  pick  up  something  from  among  the  heaps  of  stones  and 
rubbish.  General  Karatayef  was  paying  a  visit  of  inspection 
to  the  battlefield  where  men  had  fought  for  Katya's  happiness. 
He  moved  here  as  a  victor.  What  was  it  to  him  that  tears 
and  blood  were  shed  for  his  winning,  that  hope  and  faith  lay 
crushed  beneath  his  car  ?  He  had  bought  and  paid  for  all. 
He  thought  of  nothing  save  the  precious  gold  that  he  had 
given  as  the  price  of  his  son's  happiness.  He  saw  in  the 
masses  of  stone  only  the  making  of  a  monument  to  his 


174  KATYA 

triumph.  It  was  nothing  to  him  what  youth  lay  broken 
and  buried  beneath  its  weight. 

The  years  grew  on — links  in  a  heavy,  slowly  fashioned 
chain.  Petya  Orloff  moved  through  life  in  many  lands  and 
saw  the  places  and  the  people  of  the  world.  The  building 
of  the  new  suburb  in  Odessa  was  finished.  One  long  street 
was  named  after  Ekaterina  Rilinski.  The  great  undertaking 
had  proved  profitable.  A  stream  of  gold  flowed  back  to 
Priluka,  and  especially  to  Niki  Karatayef  and  his  wife.  A 
hundred  times  had  Petya  Orloff  sailed  past  the  grey  wall  of 
houses  that  turned  their  windowed  fronts  towards  the  stormy, 
threatening  sea.  The  place  was  a  ceaselessly  recurring  stage 
upon  his  movings  to  and  fro  about  the  world,  rising  like  a 
mighty  gravestone  above  all  that  he  once  had  dreamed  and 
hoped.  His  love  had  broken  its  wings  against  those  stony 
barriers.  Here  it  was  that  the  hawk  had  swooped  upon  the 
defenceless  bird,  and  torn  its  heart  away  with  beak  and 
clutching  claw.  Petya  Orloff  hated  the  grey  houses,  and  the 
man  whose  Judas  gains  had  raised  them.  Not  all  the  years 
availed  to  still  the  vulture-stab  of  his  desire  for  vengeance 
upon  General  Karatayef  and  his  work  by  the  Black  Sea, 
inseparable  as  it  was  from  his  own  longing.  Dead  stone  and 
living  man,  he  hated  them  with  the  same  slow  fury  of  soul 
with  which  he  clung  to  the  memory  of  Katya  Rilinski. 

One  day  in  July,  five  years  after  he  had  bidden  farewell  to 
Priluka  in  bitterness  and  sorrow,  Lieutenant  Orloff  came  into 
Vladivostock  on  board  one  of  the  destroyers  belonging  to 
the  Pacific  squadron.  The  post  brought  him  two  letters, 
both  with  the  Dubni  postmark.  One  of  them  was  evidently 
from  Princess  Rilinski;  the  address  of  the  other  was  written 
in  a  hand  resembling  Katya's,  and  yet  not  hers.  The  two 
little  notes  which  she  had  sent  him  from  Paris  he  had  carried 
on  his  person  ever  since,  and  he  knew  her  writing  as  his  own. 
He  laid  the  Princess's  letter  aside  and  opened  the  other. 

It  was  from  Sonya. 

She  wrote  to  tell  him  that  Priluka  was  making  preparations 
for  the  celebration  of  her  wedding  with  Elena's  elder  brother, 
Count  Gavril  Dolgoruki.  Nothing  would  give  her  greater 
pleasure,  she  wrote,  than  to  see  Petya  at  Priluka,  if  he  could 
obtain  leave  for  the  occasion.  She  dared  not  hope,  however, 
that  he  would  be  able  to  do  so,  as  her  father  had  made  in- 


THE  GRAVE  OF  YOUTH  175 

quiries  at  the  Admiralty  in  St.  Petersburg,  and  learned  there 
that  Petya  would  not  return  from  the  Far  East  until  the 
following  year.  He  might  be  sure,  she  added,  that  she  would 
think  kindly  of  him  at  this  turning-point  of  her  life.  She 
would  never  forget  their  old  friendship,  and  all  that  they  had 
shared  together  of  joy  and  sorrow. 

"  Gavril  Ivanovitch,"  the  letter  went  on,  "  asked  me  ever 
so  long  ago — at  least,  it  seems  ever  so  long  to  me  since  I  first 
went  to  stay  at  the  Dolgorukis  with  Elena — and  both  his 
parents  and  mine  would  like  it.  He  has  waited  faithfully 
for  me,  he  is  good  and  clever,  and  I  know  I  can  trust  him. 
He  takes  me  as  I  am.  I  have  never  concealed  anything  from 
him,  either  then  or  now.  I  think  you  would  like  him,  Petya 
dear,  because  he  is  so  chivalrous  and  true.  We  shall  live 
most  of  the  year  at  St.  Petersburg,  as  Gavril  is  in  the  Ministry 
of  the  Interior,  and  wishes  to  retain  his  post  there,  although 
his  parents  have  offered  him  their  estate  at  Moscow.  Papa 
said  something  about  your  being  attached  to  the  Baltic 
Squadron  next  year;  if  so,  and  you  come  to  Kronstadt,  then 
it  would  be  no  distance  to  St.  Petersburg.  You  could  come 
and  pay  us  a  visit;  we  should  both  be  so  glad  to  see  you.  ..." 

Orloff  understood.  There  was  no  need  for  Sonya  to  explain 
or  excuse  her  action  to  him.  He  had  been  free  to  leave 
Priluka,  she  had  been  forced  to  remain.  He  had  his  pro- 
fession, which  led  him  many  ways  about  the  world,  and  went 
far  towards  filling  his  life  with  other  interests.  She  was 
confined  within  the  same  narrow  circle,  and  it  was  impossible 
for  her  to  avoid  meeting  Niki  Karatayef  as  he  had  been  able 
to  avoid  Katya.  A  daughter  of  Prince  Rilinski,  beautiful 
and  charming,  Sonya  had  doubtless  had  many  offers,  and 
could  certainly  have  made  a  better  match  than  this  alliance 
with  Vera  Nadeshda's  son.  If  she  chose  him,  it  must  be 
because  she  found  him  most  worthy,  and  believed  in  the 
possibility  of  finding  a  home  with  him,  where  perhaps  she 
might  at  length  forget  the  past  and  learn  to  build  with  some 
new  hope  towards  a  future. 

Petya  Orloff  had  not  the  courage  to  revisit  Priluka.  But 
he  would  seek  out  Sonya  as  soon  as  he  returned  to  Russia. 
They  understood  each  other. 

Princess  Rilinski's  letter  told  of  friends  and  kin  now 
gathering  from  far  places  at  Priluka.  Niki  and  Katya  were 


176  KATYA 

coming  from  Belgrade  with  their  daughter  and  the  latest 
little  son,  named  after  the  Prince  his  grandfather;  Sasha  and 
Elisaveta,  who  had  made  the  journey  from  Madrid  with  their 
son  and  heir,  who  one  day  would  be  Prince  Alexander 
Rilinski  of  Priluka;  Vladimir  Shipagin,  and  the  Dolgorukis; 
later,  also,  they  hoped  to  see  Vasili  Miliukin  and  Kleopatra 
Georgievna,  on  leave  from  Paris.  "  We  are  all  pleased," 
the  Princess  wrote,  "at  Sonya's  decision,  although  it  will  be 
lonely  for  Sergei  Arkadievitch  and  myself  when  she,  the  last 
of  our  children,  leaves  us  to  ourselves  at  Priluka.  We  shall 
probably  only  live  here  in  the  summer,  spending  the  winter — 
or,  at  any  rate,  the  greater  part  of  it — at  our  house  in  Odessa. 
And  then  we  may  hope  to  see  you  again,  dear  Petya;  for  with 
the  name  you  bear,  it  would  be  strange  if  you  did  not  sooner 
or  later  return  to  the  Black  Sea.  Sergei  Arkadievitch  is  not 
as  well  as  I  should  like  to  see  him ;  Sasha's  ill-health  and  the 
fear  of  his  old  trouble  returning  has  left  its  mark  upon  his 
father.  I  wish  you  were  here,  Petya  dear.  Sonya  and  Sasha, 
and  Sergei  Arkadievitch  often  speak  of  you  and  miss  you;  I 
myself  no  less.  Sasha  and  Elisaveta  have,  as  you  know,  been 
at  the  Embassy  in  Madrid  up  to  now.  Miliukin  thinks, 
however,  that  it  would  be  well  to  get  Sasha  to  Egypt  for 
the  winter,  and  I  think  it  is  the  best  thing  that  can  be 

done " 

Sonya  was  right.  Also  to  Petya  it  seemed  a  long  time  since 
the  day  when  his  fate  and  hers  had  been  decided.  Thousands 
and  thousands  of  versts  separated  him  from  Priluka.  He 
saw  it  only  vaguely,  through  a  haze.  But  close,  and  very 
clearly  could  he  see  those  grim,  grey  houses  on  the  shores  of 
the  Black  Sea,  where  one  old  hawk  had  swooped  upon  its 
prey. 

Twice  in  the  years  that  followed,  Lieutenant  Orloff  came 
to  the  white  palace  in  Ukraine. 

Prince  Sergei  Arkadievitch  died  at  Priluka  the  Christmas 
before  his  seventy-third  birthday.  All  his  children  and 
grandchildren  gathered  about  his  coffin,  which  they  followed 
on  foot,  together  with  the  household  servants  and  the  hundreds 
of  peasants  from  the  estate,  as  it  was  borne  on  a  sledge  by 
torchlight  over  the  snow-covered  road  to  the  little  church  at 
Dubni.  The  whole  district  remembered  for  years  after  the 


THE  GRAVE  OF  YOUTH  177 

imposing  ceremony  of  the  funeral.  The  Empress  was  repre- 
sented by  one  of  her  gentlemen -in -waiting,  the  Minister  of 
Education  sent  his  secretary,  while  the  Governor  from 
Tchernigof  and  the  General  commanding  the  district 
attended  in  person,  accompanied  by  their  staffs.  The  Marshal 
of  Nobility  was  present,  accompanied  by  the  principal  land- 
owners of  the  province;  a  deputation  had  been  sent  from 
Odessa  to  represent  the  Municipal  Council.  Mass  was  read 
by  the  Archbishop  of  Kief,  with  the  choir  from  the  Cathedral 
of  St.  Vladimir,  and  at  the  final  blessing,  delivered  in  the 
churchyard,  thousands  were  assembled. 

Lieutenant  Orloff  caught  sight  of  General  Karatayef,  un- 
obtrusively hidden  among  the  crowd.  For  the  second  time 
they  met  at  Priluka. 

As  Prince  Alexander  Sergeievitch  passed  through  the 
throng,  with  his  mother  leaning  on  his  arm,  and  his  little  son 
holding  his  hand,  he  was  greeted  with  deep  respect  on  all 
sides.  Many  of  those  who  knew  the  family  well  were  deeply 
moved  at  the  sight  of  the  little  group.  Sasha  looked  haggard 
and  weary.  His  face  was  transparently  pale,  his  cheeks 
hollow,  and  he  walked  with  difficulty.  Many  there  were  who 
thought  as  Petya:  death  had  already  set  his  mark  upon 
Alexander  Rilinski,  and  next  time  the  family  vault  in  Dubni 
was  opened,  it  would  be  for  him. 

And  so  it  proved.  When  Lieutenant  Orloff  next  year  made 
the  journey  from  Kronstadt  to  Priluka,  it  was  to  follow  his 
old  friend  to  the  grave.  Sasha  had  died  at  Cannes,  not  yet 
thirty  years  old,  after  a  hopeless  struggle  against  new  out- 
breaks of  the  illness  which  had  followed  him  from  his  child- 
hood. Quietly,  without  ostentatious  ceremony,  Sasha  was 
laid  to  rest  beside  his  father.  There  was  but  one  Prince 
Rilinski  now  remaining — Alexander  Alexandrovitch,  little 
Sasha,  a  boy  of  four  years  old. 

At  the  funeral  of  Prince  Sergei  Petya  had  exchanged  a  few 
casual  words  with  Katya;  but  as  they  had  said  their  last  good- 
bye to  Sasha,  and  were  returning  from  Dubni  to  Priluka, 
Katya  came  up  to  him,  offering  her  hand,  and  said : 

"  Thanks,  Petya,  it  was  good  of  you  to  come.  Both  Niki 
and  I  felt  that  you  would.  We  could  not  think  otherwise 
of  you.  It  is  a  cruel  blow.  I  have  never  seen  Niki  so  dis- 
tressed. He  said  to-day  it  was  the  burial  of  his  own  youth." 


178  KATYA 

"  And  mine,  Katya.     Mine  was  buried  long  ago." 

"  Oh,  don't,  Petya.  It's  not  like  you  to  say  such  things. 
Dear  Petya,  you  were  not  so  in  the  old  happy  years." 

"  Maybe  I  have  changed,  Katya.  It  is  long  since  we  knew 
each  other,  you  and  I." 

She  looked  at  him  with  wet  eyes ;  and  in  his  fancy  he  could 
feel  her  heart's  beat,  as  of  a  hunted  bird. 

"  Petya,  you  do  not  know  .  .  .  you  do  not  understand.  .  .  . 
O  God,  it  is  all  so  cruel ...  so  hard.  .  .  ." 

He  snatched  her  hand  to  his  lips,  she  kissed  him  on  the 
forehead. 

Petya  hurried  through  the  rooms  out  into  the  park,  and 
down  to  the  lake.  A  bitter  wind  flung  wave  after  wave  across 
the  cold,  grey  water.  The  dead  reeds  shivered  sufferingly 
in  the  blast.  Away  on  the  farther  bank  the  poplars  waved 
a  rhythmic  requiem,  and  rotting  leaves  were  whirling  despair- 
ingly abroad.  Far  up  above  a  flight  of  birds  shrieked  mystic 
warning  as  they  winged  their  way  across  Ukraine. 

"  Row,  Petya,  row,  and  let  me  steer  1" 

Lieutenant  Orloff  shuddered  at  the  sound  of  his  own  foot- 
steps on  plank  and  gravel  path.  He  stole  away  between 
the  trees,  filled  with  a  bitterness  of  wakened  recollection. 

On  a  bench  half  hidden  beneath  two  old  oaks  sat  Nikolai 
Karatayef,  his  head  resting  in  his  hands,  staring  at  the 
ground  and  the  fallen  leaves.  For  a  moment  Petya  hesi- 
tated. .  .  .  Should  he,  for  Sasha's  sake  .  .  .  now  that  Sasha  was 
gone  ?  .  .  . 

He  could  not.  It  was  all  long  dead.  Away  on  the  shores 
of  the  Black  Sea  a  mighty  gravestone  marked  the  irrevocable 
end  of  Petya  Orloff's  youth  and  faith  and  hope. 

During  Niki's  and  Katya's  stay  in  Trebizond,  at  the  time 
of  the  Armenian  disturbances,  Petya  was  attached  to  one  of 
the  warships  then  cruising  in  these  waters.  There  was, 
however,  no  opportunity  of  going  on  shore.  Korenof  pre- 
ferred to  keep  the  fleet  at  a  distance,  wishing  to  avoid  any 
further  excitement  of  the  Mohammedan  population.  Neither 
Katya  nor  Petya  knew  how  near  they  were  to  each  other. 

About  this  time  the  keel  of  a  new  armoured  cruiser  was 
being  laid  in  the  shipyard  at  Sevastopol.  Three  years  later 
the  vessel  was  launched  in  the  presence  of  the  Grand  Duke 
Mikail  Alexandrovitch  and  the  Minister  of  Marine,  receiving 


THE  GRAVE  OF  YOUTH  179 

the  name  Admiral  Orloff.  Petya  took  part  in  the  construction 
of  the  ordnance,  and  was  to  be  appointed  to  her  as  soon  as  she 
was  ready  for  sea. 

One  evening  during  his  stay  at  Sevastopol,  Petya  paid  a 
visit,  accompanied  by  some  of  his  comrades,  to  one  of  the 
small  music-halls  in  the  neighbourhood  of  the  Teatralnaya. 
All  had  been  drinking  a  good  deal.  Several  of  the  young 
officers  were  already  growing  excited,  while  others  became 
sentimental.  Both  the  performers  and  the  public  looked 
on  with  true  Russian  indulgence  at  the  interruptions  of  the 
noisy  party.  Petya,  who  earlier  in  the  evening  had  been  in 
the  highest  spirits,  fell  into  a  fit  of  abstracted  melancholy, 
and  sat  idly  staring  before  him. 

It  was  nearly  midnight,  and  the  "  Russian  Chorus,"  which 
appears  at  the  end  of  all  music-hall  performances  in  Russia, 
trooped  on  to  the  stage.  It  consisted  of  a  score  of  young 
girls,  in  everyday  dress,  many  with  cloaks  and  hats  ready 
to  go  home  as  soon  as  they  had  finished  their  songs.  The 
audience  were  already  beginning  to  leave  the  place,  the  final 
chorus  being  as  a  rule  of  but  slight  interest. 

One  of  the  young  officers  was  moved  to  spring  up  on  the 
stage  and  begin  skylarking  with  the  girls.  In  a  moment 
half  a  dozen  of  his  comrades  followed  his  example.  Many  of 
those  who  had  risen  to  leave  stayed  on  to  see  what  might 
happen.  No  one  appeared  to  take  offence,  despite  the  fact 
that  the  officers  were  in  uniform,  and  were  in  nowise  careful 
as  to  their  speech. 

A  couple  of  workmen  leaned  over  the  low  balcony,  greatly 
enjoying  the  joke.  "  That's  right,  your  honours  !"  shouted 
one;  "take  all  the  fun  you  can,  being  so  beautiful  drunk  !" 
The  other  sighed,  perhaps  a  trifle  enviously. 

The  manager,  a  dirty  Armenian  with  heavy  diamond  rings 
on  his  fingers,  appeared  on  the  stage  bowing  humbly. 

"  Most  amusing,  your  honours  !  Ha,  ha  ! — delighted,  I'm 
sure — as  long  as  you  please.  I've  not  a  word  to  say  against  it. 
But  if  the  police  ..." 

The  young  men  extinguished  him  with  little  ceremony. 
One  of  them  placed  himself,  broadly  gesticulating,  in  a  door- 
way at  the  back  of  the  stage  through  which  the  artistes 
came  and  went.  The  rest  began  chasing  the  girls,  who 
dashed  about  like  frightened  chickens.  One  of  them,  a 


i8o  KATYA 

pretty  child  of  some  seventeen  years,  with  great  brown  eyes, 
and  her  hair  in  a  thick  dark  plait  down  her  back,  began  to 
cry,  tripping  helplessly  from  one  wing  to  the  other.  Her 
tears  and  her  youthful  beauty  soon  attracted  the  attention 
of  the  excited  men. 

Just  as  she  was  preparing  to  spring  over  the  footlights 
down  into  the  auditorium,  her  eyes  met  Orloff's.  At  the 
same  moment  she  was  caught  from  behind  and  held  fast. 

Petya  sprang  up,  and  crashing  his  sword  hilt  against  the 
edge  of  the  stage,  shouted  up  to  his  comrades : 

"  Leave  her  alone  !" 

There  was  a  sudden  silence.  Only  the  two  men  who  had 
laid  hands  on  the  girl  continued  to  wrestle  with  her.  A  half- 
suffocated  cry  for  help  burst  from  her  lips. 

Next  moment  Petya  Orloff  was  on  the  stage,  slinging  his 
comrades  to  right  and  left  about  the  girl.  He  flung  them  to 
the  ground  and  let  them  lie. 

"  What  is  your  name  ?"  he  asked  the  child,  as  she  stood 
trembling  and  still  half  sobbing  before  him. 

"  They  call  me  Pashka." 

"  But  your  real  name  ?" 

"  Pakhomya  Pavlovna."  The  girl  looked  up  with  shy 
entreaty  at  Orloff,  as  though  fearing  what  he  might  do  next. 
There  was  something  stiff  and  harshly  restrained  in  his 
manner,  and  he  breathed  deeply. 

"  Enough  of  this  !"  he  called  imperatively  to  his  comrades, 
who  were  beginning  to  pick  themselves  up.  "If  you  want 
me,  you  know  where  to  find  me  to-morrow  morning." 

He  turned  to  the  girl  and  offered  his  arm. 

"  Come,  Pashka,  I  will  see  you  home." 

With  his  disengaged  arm  he  thrust  aside  the  officer  who 
still  stood  in  the  doorway,  and  led  Pakhomya  Pavlovna  from 
the  stage  as  it  might  be  a  Princess  whom  he  escorted  from 
a  ballroom. 

"  Who's  that  ?"  asked  one  of  the  workmen  in  the  balcony. 

"  Lieutenant  Orloff — Peotr  Konstantinovitch,"  answered 
someone  from  the  auditorium  below. 

"  Takes  after  his  father,"  another  observed. 

"  Ay,  his  heart's  in  the  right  place,"  grumbled  the  first 
speaker. 

Fiom  that  day  Pakhomya  Pavlovna  Petroff,  daughter  of 


THE  GRAVE  OF  YOUTH  181 

a  carpenter  engaged  at  the  shipyard,  was  escorted  every 
evening  to  and  from  the  little  music-hall  by  Lieutenant 
Orloff.  After  a  short  time  he  wrote  to  the  Kherson  Bank, 
and  drew  out  the  money  placed  there  to  his  credit  by  Prince 
Sergei  Rilinski,  in  order  to  compensate  Pashka's  parents 
for  the  pecuniary  loss  caused  by  her  giving  up  her  engage- 
ment and  leaving  her  home. 

The  child  clung  to  him  with  a  touching  humility:  she  was 
at  once  his  mistress,  his  ward,  and  his  servant.  She  gave 
him  all  that  her  little  soul  knew  of  affection,  but  in  all  the 
years  they  lived  together,  now  at  Sevastopol,  now  in  Odessa, 
she  never  rose  beyond  the  modest  level  of  education  and 
development  at  which  he  had  first  found  her.  She  read  with 
difficulty,  and  could  scarcely  write  her  own  name.  It  was 
long  before  she  could  bring  herself  to  use  the  familiar  "  thou  " 
of  intimacy  to  Petya  in  spite  of  his  expressed  desire.  He 
remained  in  her  eyes  the  young  aristocrat  who  had  flung  the 
splendid  officers  aside  for  her  sake,  and  been  kind  to  her  in 
her  distress.  He  was  a  superior  being,  and  withal  so  easy 
to  please.  She  needed  but  to  look  at  him  with  her  great 
sad  eyes  and  creep  close  to  him,  and  violence  changed  to  quiet 
calm,  weariness  gave  place  to  pleasant  cheerfulness.  And 
then  he  would  caress  her  hair  and  tell  her  not  to  be  afraid, 
for  he  would  always  be  good  to  her. 

"  Pashka,  little  bird,  tell  me  you  do  not  fear.  No  one 
can  hurt  you  now." 

Lieutenant  Orloff  had  no  income  beyond  his  pay.  He  left 
it  to  Pashka  to  make  it  go  as  far  as  possible,  and  it  seemed 
to  him  that  she  did  wonders.  This  child  of  the  people  was 
scrupulously  faithful  to  every  trust  of  his,  and  their  relation 
brought  him  never  the  least  anxiety — only  peace  and  pleasant 
rest. 

In  his  profession  Petya  was  held  in  esteem  by  his  superiors, 
and  his  subordinates  almost  worshipped  him.  His  comrades, 
however,  gradually  drew  away  from  him  as  the  years  went 
on;  his  silent  moods  and  uncommunicative  manner  did  not 
suit  them.  Admiral  Orloff  s  son  became  a  lonely  man,  living 
in  poverty  and  seclusion.  His  youth  was  fading  helplessly 
away,  shadowed  as  it  was  by  those  great  grey  walls  upon  the 
shores  of  the  Black  Sea. 

Yet  even  when  sorrow  and  bitterness  were  heaviest  upon 


i82  KATYA 

him,  the  thought  of  that  frightened  child  who  clung  to  him 
for  protection  could  light  up  his  soul  with  a  glow  of  quiet, 
modest  happiness.  And  he  would  hurry  back  to  the  poor 
little  home  they  shared  together,  and  take  her  in  his  arms, 
stroking  her  hair  and  whispering: 

"  Pashka,  little    bird,   tell  me  you  are    happy  and  safe 
with  me." 


CHAPTER  III 

SLAV  A,    KNEGINYA,   SLAVA  ! 

THE  Slav  names  of  the  Balkans  seem  as  if  chosen  with  one 
single  aim:  to  keep  in  vivid  memory  the  troublous  history 
of  those  oft-harried  lands.  Close  to  Bitolya  lies  the  village 
that  is  called  Mogila,  which  means  "  the  Grave,"  and  by  the 
banks  of  the  Badiska,  on  the  eastern  slope  of  the  Tsardagh 
heights,  is  Stradovo,  "  The  City  of  Suffering." 

The  town  forms  part  of  the  Turkish  vilayet  of  Kossovo, 
often  called  Old  Servia.  Here,  in  a  dried-up  basin,  is  the 
battlefield  Kossovo  Polye,  where,  in  the  fourteenth  century, 
the  grey-headed  Servian  ruler,  Lasar,  and  his  allies  of  the 
Southern  Slavs,  lost  the  dominion  of  the  Balkans  to  the 
Turks,  splitting  the  mighty  Servian  kingdom  which  Tsar 
Stefan  Dushan  and  the  Niemanides  had  built. 

Stradovo  is  the  extreme  south-westerly  outpost  of  Old 
Servia.  Behind  it  rise  the  foothills  of  Albania.  Greek  scouts 
are  watching  from  the  south,  and  on  the  east  lie  the  close- 
packed,  ever-ready  hordes  of  the  Bulgarians.  Among  the 
many  nationalities  of  the  district  are  Roumanians,  and  in 
the  town  itself  Jews  are  numerous. 

Turkish  rule,  however,  and  the  Mohammedan  faith  give 
the  town  its  characteristic  note.  The  Christian  churches 
have  neither  domes  nor  towers;  they  are  hidden  away  in 
obscure  corners,  as  though  seeking  concealment  in  a  hostile 
country.  The  mosques  dominate  the  town  with  tall  minarets 
pointing  towards  heaven.  No  bells  call  men  to  worship 
under  the  shadow  of  the  Cross.  From  his  high  tower  the 
Muezzin  calls  the  faithful  to  prayer  in  the  name  of  Allah  and 
his  Prophet.  Before  the  altars  kneel  a  congregation  clad 
in  pitiful  rags:  the  outcast  and  oppressed,  the  poor  in  spirit. 


SLAVA,  KNEGINYA,  SLAVA  !  183 

And  on  the  praying  carpets  kneel — their  faces  turned  toward 
the  holy  Mecca — the  great  ones  of  this  little  world,  to  whom 
the  poor  pay  tribute,  and  whose  word  is  war  or  peace. 

Seen  from  a  distance,  Stradovo  is  charming.  It  hangs  over 
the  ravine  where  the  Badiska  flows,  like  a  bird's-nest  built 
among  the  reeds.  The  surrounding  hills  are  green  and  softly 
rounded,  mounting  gently  towards  the  upper  heights  whose 
forest-clad  peaks  stand  sentinel  to  the  clouds. 

At  close  quarters,  however,  Stradovo  reveals  nothing  but 
poverty  and  decay.  Its  streets  are  unpaved,  rain  and  snow 
convert  them  into  swamps,  and  in  the  sun  they  change  to 
harshly  dazzling  ways,  where  the  flour-white  dust  sweeps  up 
in  blinding  drifts.  The  whole  town  seems  a  ruin.  All  its 
colours  are  faded,  all  its  buildings  crazy  and  rotten  from 
neglect.  Its  men  and  women  appear  mean  and  miserable 
in  their  patched  and  ragged  dress;  carts  and  waggons  such 
as  the  rest  of  Europe  knew  in  the  middle  ages  creak  through 
the  streets  drawn  by  pitiful  skeleton  travesties  of  horse  and 
ox;  sore-spotted,  skulking  dogs  rake  in  the  rubbish-heaps 
against  the  walls. 

The  small  Servian  villages  up  in  the  hills  live  in  a  cease- 
less fear  of  Turkish  tax-collectors  and  Albanian  robbers. 
The  Albanians  dictate  their  orders  to  the  Turkish  authorities, 
avenging  every  concession  which  the  Ambassadors  of  the 
Great  Powers  wring  from  the  Sultan  on  behalf  of  the  Christian 
Slavs,  by  plunder  and  merciless  massacre,  in  the  name  of  the 
Prophet  and  the  Padishah.  Sometimes  they  act  of  their  own 
evil  will.  Often  they  are  but  tools  in  the  hand  of  Austria, 
when  the  House  of  Habsburg,  for  its  own  dark  ends,  desires 
to  report  disturbance.  The  Turkish  officials  have  no  power 
beyond  the  limits  of  the  Albanians'  permission.  And  of  all 
the  foreign  Powers,  none  is  so  feared  and  hated  there  as 
Russia,  the  spokesman  and  protector  of  the  Balkan  Slavs, 
whose  sword  has  wrung  whole  kingdoms  from  the  Crescent, 
and  whose  diplomatic  service  is  the  watchful  defender  of 
every  orthodox  congregation  from  the  Adriatic  to  the 
Bosphorus. 

No  sort  of  industry  can  thrive  in  Stradovo.  The  branch 
line  which  connects  the  town  with  the  main  rail  to  Salonika 
has  not  availed  to  wake  the  place  from  lethargy.  Both  trade 
and  agriculture  fall  into  decay  under  the  warring  rule  of  Turk 


184  KATYA 

and  Albanian.  Out  in  the  country,  time  seems  to  have  stood 
still :  men  till  the  ground  with  implements  such  as  were  used 
in  the  days  of  Tsar  Stefan  Dushan.  The  mud-built  hovels 
crouch  close  to  the  ground  whose  colour  they  bear,  as  if  to 
escape  the  greedy  eye  of  the  predatory  mountaineers. 

And  yet  nature  has  flung  all  manner  of  wealth  upon  the 
land  about  Stradovo.  The  soil  is  fruitful,  grass  and  corn 
abound,  and  the  hills  are  covered  with  splendid  timber.  A 
few  miles  west  of  the  town  lies  the  great  mysterious  water 
which  mirrors  mountain  and  sky  in  its  blue  depths,  as  its 
name  reflects  the  story  of  the  place  and  its  people — Mukovo 
Yesero  (The  Sea  of  Pain). 

Folk-lore  has  fashioned  many  magic  tales  about  its  water — 
blue  as  the  Adriatic,  crystal-clear,  and  yet  unfathomable. 
The  old  songs  tell  of  ruined  and  forgotten  cities  buried  in  its 
depth;  of  weapons,  wielded  in  the  country's  cause,  that  rust 
in  its  waters  till  such  time  as  some  new  Paladin  shall  take 
them,  Arthur-wise,  and  with  them  lead  the  Slav  once  more 
to  power. 

Even  the  hardest  winter  cannot  freeze  that  water  quite. 
One  spot  is  always  clear  in  the  centre  of  its  fine-drawn  oval, 
where  the  blue  of  the  sky  is  prisoned.  The  summer  sun  plays 
on  its  bright  still  surface,  where  the  dive  of  the  pelican  and 
the  thrash  of  wild  swans'  wings  make  little  waves  that  are 
and  disappear.  But  towards  evening,  harried  by  chill  gusts, 
it  grows  dark  and  ominous.  It  borrows  purple  of  the  sunset, 
as  the  hills,  and  borders  it  with  gold  as  do  the  floating  clouds. 
Its  frothing  waves  are  flung  against  the  rocks,  to  fall  back  in 
a  rain  of  fire.  The  wild  call  of  the  curlew  and  the  heron's 
melancholy  cry  mingle  with  their  ceaseless  thrashing,  and 
as  the  sunset  glow  eats  deeper  and  deeper  into  the  western 
sky,  the  waves  rise  redly,  leaping  like  greedy  tongues  of  flame. 

But  as  the  colours  die  in  the  gathering  twilight  mist,  the 
fury  of  the  lake  subsides.  The  moon  comes  up,  the  stars  are 
lit  above  the  softly  breathing  water,  whose  little  ripples  fade 
into  the  night  like  a  languishing  sigh.  The  beasts  come  down 
from  the  dark-wrapped  heights  to  drink;  bears  that  follow 
the  herdmen's  paths,  wolves  stealing  warily  through  the 
scrub,  and  chamois  that  pause  to  listen  after  each  cautious 
spring.  The  wild  boar  moves  with  clumsy  gait  over  loose 
stones  and  through  the  splashing  swamps,  its  young  in- 


SLAVA,  KNEGINYA,  SLAVA!  185 

quisitively  sniffing  at  its  heels.  The  stag  comes  striding  down 
with  lifted  head,  alert  and  ready  for  all  perils  of  the  night. 

The  darkness  fills  with  half-heard,  melancholy  sounds: 
a  lonely  bird  calling  among  the  reeds,  a  hooting  of  some 
hidden  owl,  the  hoarse  bark  of  the  wolf,  or  the  choked  cry 
of  a  captured  thing  in  the  claws  of  its  murderous  foe.  And 
the  throb  of  the  water  on  its  stony  shore  sounds  under  all, 
like  a  ceaseless,  disconsolate  sobbing. 

Throughout  the  sunlit  day  the  surface  of  the  lake  lies  waste 
and  dead,  as  life  seems  fled  from  all  the  hills  around.  The 
evening  falls  in  stormy  throes  of  fire,  heralding  forth  a  night 
of  shivering  fear. 

And  ever  the  Sea  of  Pain  is  sobbing,  as  though  the  streams 
that  rilled  it  were  of  tears. 

Korenof,  the  old  Ambassador,  when  talking  confidential 
reminiscence  with  his  colleague  of  the  Austrian  Service,  would 
sometimes  observe,  with  a  politely  triumphant  smile:  "  Yes, 
my  dear  Count,  it  was  a  neat  trick  you  played  me  at  Stradovo; 
but  I  think  I  came  out  best  after  all  !"  Korenof  was  not 
content  with  hoisting  the  Russian  flag  over  the  second 
Consulate  in  Stradovo;  he  used  his  influence  to  effect  the 
representation  of  Servia  at  the  same  post,  well  knowing  that 
nothing  would  be  more  distasteful  to  Austria.  It  was  not 
long  before  Bulgaria  expressed  a  wish  to  follow  suit,  and 
after  lengthy  negotiations  Russia  succeeded  in  forcing  the 
point.  This  stage  having  been  reached,  it  was  only  natural 
that  Roumania  and  Greece  should  wish  to  have  a  finger  in 
the  pie,  and  the  Sublime  Porte,  having  just  been  coerced  into 
concession  in  the  case  of  Servia  and  Bulgaria,  could  not  well 
refuse. 

The  Great  Powers  managed  their  own  affairs.  Italy  was 
the  first  to  appear,  loth  as  ever  to  leave  the  Austrian  un- 
watched  among  the  intrigueful  Albanians;  France  felt  in  duty 
bound  to  stand  here  shoulder  to  shoulder  with  Russia.  Last 
of  all,  a  year  behind  the  rest,  came  England,  hand  in  pockets, 
to  see  what  was  going  on.  Waggon  after  waggon  disgorged 
its  mysterious  load  of  extraneous  luxury  at  Stradovo,  and 
workmen  from  Salonika  and  Constantinople  were  kept  busy 
for  months  preparing  mansions  for  the  residents-to-be. 

The  Turkish  authorities  had  also  been  reinforced.     Simul- 


i86  KATYA 

taneously  with  the  hoisting  of  the  Russian  flag  over  the  new 
Consulate — a  very  neat  little  fortress  on  the  right  bank  of  the 
Badiska — a  horde  of  Albanians,  who  had  concealed  themselves 
in  hills  outside,  stormed  into  the  town,  and  demanded  of 
Sayyid  Bey,  the  Mutessarif,  to  have  the  token  removed 
forthwith,  or  they  would  haul  it  down  themselves.  The 
little  garrison  turned  out  with  its  machine-gun  and  drove  the 
brigands  off.  Sayyid  Bey,  fearing  lest  the  enemy  should 
return  in  force,  telegraphed  for  troops,  and  shortly  after  a 
whole  brigade  arrived  under  the  command  of  General  Halim 
Pasha,  and  remained  as  permanent  garrison  at  Stradovo. 
The  effect  of  this  move  was  somewhat  to  dislocate  the  original 
balance  of  authority.  Sayyid  Bey  retired  by  degrees  into 
the  background,  and  the  foreign  representatives  came  gradu- 
ally to  treat  solely  with  Halim  Pasha  as  the  supreme  repre- 
sentative of  Turkish  authority  on  the  spot. 

The  presence  of  Ritter  v.  Eichwald  at  Stradovo  appeared 
to  have  made  little  or  no  impression  upon  the  town  or  sur- 
rounding country.  The  arrival  of  Nikolai  Karatayef,  how- 
ever, became  the  signal  for  murder  and  rapine  on  the  part  of 
the  Albanians,  which'lasted  all  through  that  autumn,  despite 
the  utmost  efforts  of  Halim  Pasha  and  his  men.  The  Russian 
press  mouthed  outspoken  accusation  against  Austria  of  having 
arranged  the  whole  affair  as  a  demonstration  against  the 
Russian  Consul  in  Stradovo. 

The  Slav  population  of  the  district  held  the  same  opinion. 
They  bore  without  flinching  the  troubles  which  Karatayef's 
arrival  had  brought  upon  them,  trusting  to  the  protection  of 
the  Power  he  represented  in  the  future.  Russia  was  the 
mother  of  all  Slavs,  the  Turk's  hereditary  foe,  under  whose 
mighty  wings  the  oppressed  found  ready  shelter.  And 
Consul  Karatayef  was  her  emissary;  to  him  they  could  pour 
out  their  troubles  and  their  fears  with  surety  of  sympathy 
and  aid.  He  was  the  chief,  the  Gospodar,  before  whom 
Sayyid  Bey  and  Halim  Pasha  trembled.  He  was  for  them 
the  mighty  wielder  of  wealth  and  power,  the  symbol  also  of 
brotherhood  between  the  Slav  peoples;  they  blessed  his 
coming  to  Stradovo,  the  City  of  Suffering. 

The  fact  that  Consul  Karatayef's  wife  was  a  Princess 
Rilinski  was  soon  known  to  all  Servians  in  the  town  and  near. 
Th  e  name  sounds  in  Servian  ears  as  Bayard  in  French,  echoing 


SLAVA,  KNEGINYA,  SLAVA  !  187 

as  it  does  the  glories  of  the  past.  In  the  Slav  lands  east  of  the 
Adriatic  it  is  a  name  of  royal  splendour.  At  the  Slava,  the 
most  patriotic  Servian  feast  of  the  year,  and  on  St.  George's 
Day,  the  spring  festival  of  all  the  Christians  in  the  Balkans, 
century-old  songs  are  sung  of  the  deeds  of  the  Rilinski  Boyars, 
who  fought  under  the  Niemanides,  and  ruled  over  Servian 
kingdoms  by  the  shores  of  the  Adriatic. 

And  so  it  came  that  the  wife  of  the  Russian  Consul  in  Stra- 
dovo  was  known  there  by  no  other  name  than  Princess 
Rilinski,  or  merely  "  The  Princess."  During  the  first  winter, 
especially,  before  Katya  had  begun  to  ride  abroad,  one  might 
on  market  days  see  crowds  of  peasants  waiting  outside  the 
Consulate  in  the  hope  of  catching  a  glimpse  of  this  their  heroine 
by  right  of  birth.  Karatayef's  little  son  men  called  Sergei 
Rilinski,  or  "  the  young  Prince,";  the  daughter  of  the  house 
was  merely  Anna  Nikolaievna  Karatayef.  Legends  arose, 
and  myths  were  found  or  woven  about  Katya.  She  and  hers 
came  as  messengers  of  freedom ;  perchance  it  was  she  who  was 
destined  at  long  last  to  raise  the  rusted  weapons  from  Mukovo's 
depths,  and  edge  them  anew  to  war  against  the  enemies  of 
the  Slav. 

The  institution  of  the  Servian  Consulate  at  Stradovo  was 
old  Korenof's  revenge,  and  a  Russian  victory  over  Austria. 
In  the  district  itself,  however,  the  whole  credit  was  given  to 
the  Russian  Consul  and  his  wife,  the  Servian  representative 
being  regarded  as  their  subordinate.  And  when  Bulgaria 
arrived,  no  one  doubted  that  this  also  was  due  to  their 
influence.  The  remaining  Consulates  which  subsequently 
appeared  to  represent  more  distant  Powers  concerned  only  the 
various  small  minorities  in  the  town — and,  of  course,  Halim 
Pasha  and  the  Turkish  authorities  generally.  The  true  centre 
of  power  was,  in  the  eyes  of  all  Slavs  for  miles  around,  the 
stronghold  on  the  bank  of  the  Badiska,  above  which  the 
Russian  Eagle  hovered,  watchful  and  unafraid. 

Whenever  Madame  v.  Eichwald  and  Madame  Karatayef 
chanced  to  meet,  the  one  was  as  effusively  charmee  as  the  other 
was  smilingly  heureuse.  The  two  were,  however,  intensely 
antagonistic  from  the  first,  and  even  at  the  time  when  they 
were  the  only  ladies  in  the  town,  neither  was  ever  seen  in  the 
other's  house.  Their  children  were  not  allowed  to  play 


188  KATYA 

together.  Katya  made  no  attempt  to  conceal  her  firm  opinion 
that  v.  Eichwald  was  in  league  with  the  Albanians,  and  that 
the  blood  of  many  innocent  Christians  was  upon  his  head. 
Madame  v.  Eichwald,  who  was  as  insignificant  as  her 
husband  was  clever,  never  would  see  in  Katya  anything 
but  a  frivolous  and  arrogant  coquette.  It  was  matter  of  no 
little  surprise  to  her,  therefore,  when  the  Servian,  Bulgarian, 
Greek,  and  Roumanian  representatives  laid  veritable  siege  to 
the  Russian  Consulate,  seeking  the  favour  of  its  lady,  the 
Princess.  Madame  v.  Eichwald  clung  to  the  hope  that  when 
Great  Britain's  tardy  emissary  arrived,  he  might  prove  to  be 
of  more  intelligent  discernment. 

Consul  Karatayef  went  about  his  work  with  untiring  energy 
and  zeal.  During  the  winter  he  took  every  opportunity  of 
making  himself  acquainted  with  all  classes  of  local  society, 
their  needs  and  demands.  He  became  most  sensitively 
familiar  with  the  shifting  moods  and  currents  of  feeling  that 
pulsed  through  the  little  world  with  which  he  had  to  deal, 
frequently  astonishing  Halim  Pasha  himself  with  the  accuracy 
of  his  information  concerning  the  vaguest  shadows  of  abuse 
threatened  or  perpetrated  by  Turk  or  Albanian.  He  showed 
himself  on  many  occasions  more  closely  in  touch  with  the 
movement  of  events  than  the  Turkish  authorities  themselves. 
He  succeeded  in  organizing  an  unofficial  staff  of  confidential 
agents  throughout  the  district,  and  laid  the  foundation  of  the 
work  upon  national  statistics  which  later  made  his  name 
famous  beyond  the  bounds  of  Russia  and  the  Balkans.  Old 
Korenof  read  his  reports  with  ever-increasing  interest. 

"  Promising,  very  promising,"  said  the  Ambassador.  "  It 
almost  looks  as  though  Nikolai  Nikolaievitch  were  going  to 
make  us  another  Constantinople  out  there  in  Stradovo.  But 
I  ask  you,  gentlemen,  can  any  of  you  explain  what  it  is  that 
keeps  our  little  friend  Ekaterina  Sergeievna  in  that  hole  ?  / 
give  it  up." 

The  winter  passed  quickly.  The  spring  came,  and,  as  in 
Ukraine,  glided  in  a  few  short  weeks  over  to  summer.  Nikolai 
Karatayef  had  not  been  so  happy  since  the  first  year  in  St. 
Petersburg.  Katya  made  the  home  bright  and  cheerful  for 
him  and  them  all ;  she  had  a  quantity  of  their  valuable  furni- 
ture brought  to  Stradovo,  also  some  old  treasures  from 
Priluka.  Ordinary  womanly  occupations  bored  her,  but  she 


SLAVA,  KNEGINYA,  SLAVA  !  189 

had  a  talent  for  anything  in  the  way  of  arranging,  draping, 
decorating,  and  under  her  hands  the  Russian  Consulate  in 
Stradovo  grew  to  be  almost  like  a  new  Priluka.  The  house 
was  surrounded  by  a  thick  wall  enclosing  a  garden,  in  the 
centre  of  which  stood  the  residence  itself.  The  corners  were 
occupied  by  outbuildings  for  the  kavasses'  and  servants' 
quarters,  stabling  and  storage.  Katya  spent  much  time  and 
money  on  the  garden  at  first,  and  it  gradually  grew  to  be  a 
little  wonder,  with  its  profusion  of  trees,  shrubs,  and  flowers. 
In  the  stables  were  a  fine  pair  of  carriage-horses,  Nikolai 
Karatayef's  pet  Hanoverian,  and  Katya's  thoroughbred 
grey,  "  Mazeppa,"  besides  two  ponies  for  the  children.  The 
household  was  extensive,  as  everywhere  under  Katya's  rule. 
In  addition  to  the  English  governess,  Miss  Warden,  there  was 
also  a  Russian  tutor.  Katya's  own  maid  had  at  her  command 
two  Greek  girls  from  Constantinople  who  spoke  French; 
there  were  three  kavasses,  and  a  crowd  of  servants  attached 
to  kitchen,  stable,  and  garden.  Henri  de  Beaufort,  the 
French  Consul  at  Stradovo,  a  handsome  young  man  who  had 
published  a  volume  of  poems,  and  was  more  interested  in 
literature  than  in  the  Macedonian  question,  had  often  told 
his  colleague  Karatayef  that  the  place  was  more  like  an 
Embassy  than  a  mere  Consulate  in  a  third-rate  Turkish  town. 

There  were  always  guests  at  the  Russian  Consulate;  the 
prophecies  of  those  who  had  declared  against  the  possibility 
of  Katya's  gathering  any  court  in  Stradovo  were  put  to 
shame.  Turkish  officials  of  rank,  such  as  Halim  Pasha  and 
Sayyid  Bey  are  not,  it  is  true,  as  a  rule  inclined  to  play  the 
part  of  page  to  European  ladies,  and  the  old  Greek  Bishop  was 
hardly  to  be  called  eligible.  But  there  were  Karatayef's 
Servian,  Bulgarian,  Greek,  and  Roumanian  colleagues,  there 
was  M.  de  Beaufort  and  the  Italian,  Count  Fantoni.  Gradu- 
ally all  were  won  over,  and  the  supremacy  of  Katya  and  her 
country  in  consular  circles  at  Stradovo  was  unanimously 
acknowledged.  No  one  had  a  word  to  say  against  v.  Eich- 
wald  and  his  wife;  but  there  could  be  no  question  of  com- 
parison. .  .  . 

So  Katya  found  her  court,  all  predictions  to  the  contrary 
notwithstanding.  Moreover,  Stradovo,  the  despised  and 
rejected,  furnished  her  with  something  which  she  had  never 
before  possessed,  not  even  at  Priluka — it  gave  her  a  people. 


190  KATYA 

"  The  Princess  "  was  known  to  every  child  in  the  place. 
Attended  only  by  Yussuf,  she  explored  every  quarter  of  the 
town,  save  the  exclusively  Mohammedan  wards,  where  un- 
veiled women  could  not  pass  without  causing  offence.  She 
was  the  principal  patron  of  the  Greek  and  Jewish  merchants; 
she  routed  out  ancient  Servian  and  Macedonian  loom-work 
and  carvings,  which  found  their  way  to  the  Russian  Consulate 
in  such  numbers  that  she  was  wont  to  call  one  of  her  rooms 
"my  Servian  Museum."  Women  and  girls  who  possessed 
the  secrets  of  Oriental  embroidery  earned  royal  wages  at  her 
commands.  She  presented  the  Servian  and  Bulgarian  schools 
with  books,  maps,  and  pictures.  She  lavished  benefits  on 
all  the  town,  somewhat  carelessly,  perhaps,  and  without 
system,  but  with  such  frequency  and  extravagance  as  to 
impress  the  inhabitants,  accustomed  only  to  poverty,  with  an 
idea  that  "  The  Princess  "  had  untold  wealth  at  her  command. 
She  gave  without  counting  cost  or  value,  almost  to  reckless- 
ness. It  occupied  and  amused  her,  and  she  found  a  subtle 
delight  in  seeing  herself  reflected  in  all  these  wondering,  wor- 
shipping eyes.  Little  children  and  aged  folk  kissed  her  hands 
as  she  passed  through  the  streets ;  the  youth  of  the  city  greeted 
her  as  a  queen. 

When  the  ladies  of  Halim  Pasha's  household  arrived  at 
Stradovo,  Katya  expressed  a  wish  to  visit  them.  Permission 
was  granted,  and  a  gramophone  which  she  brought  with  her 
as  a  present  secured  her  immediate  success  in  the  General's 
harem.  But  the  childlike  little  women  had  nothing  in 
common  with  splendid,  imperious  Katya;  they  had  nothing 
to  share,  and  lived  in  worlds  apart.  A  yearly  visit  was  all 
their  intercourse.  Halim  Pasha  sent  a  costly  bracelet,  prob- 
ably ordered  from  Austria,  by  way  of  thanks  for  the  gramo- 
phone. Katya  exhibited  it  to  Fantoni  and  de  Beaufort  with 
a  scornful  "  C'est  une  horreur,"  and  laid  it  aside.  More 
to  her  taste  was  a  Turkish  decoration,  the  Shefakat — 
Ladies'Order  of  Virtue — resplendent  with  rubies  and  brilliants, 
which  Abdul  Hamid  sent  her.  It  looked  so  well  at  the  great 
representative  functions,  when  the  Russian  Consulate  cele- 
brated Easter,  or  the  birthday  of  the  Tsar. 

Altogether,  Katya  was  more  admired  than  loved  in  Stradovo 
itself,  owing,  no  doubt,  to  the  fact  that  her  own  heart  was  only 
half  interested  in  the  benefactions  with  which  she  loaded  Slav 


SLAVA,  KNEGINYA,  SLAVA!  191 

and  Greek,  Christian  and  Jew.  Out  in  the  country,  on  the 
other  hand,  the  case  was  very  different.  Here  she  ruled  over 
a  people  who  not  only  accepted  "  the  Princess  "  as  their 
sovereign  lady,  but  who  loved  Katya  for  herself.  Alone,  or 
with  her  husband,  escorted  by  the  faithful  Yussuf,  she  rode  far 
and  wide  throughout  the  Servian  lands  about  Stradovo.  She 
was  quick  to  learn  the  language,  and  in  a  wonderfully  short 
time  she  had  succeeded  in  placing  herself  on  familiar  terms 
with  the  poor  peasants,  who  through  an  existence  beset  with 
troubles  and  peril,  yet  preserved  an  unshaken  faith  in  the 
goodness  of  God  and  their  own  rights  as  a  nation.  Ignorant, 
dirty,  and  ill-nourished,  they  bore  the  mark  of  centuries  of 
Turkish  oppression  of  their  race.  But  as  Mukovo  never 
freezes  quite,  so  also  it  seemed  as  if  no  amount  of  cruelty, 
hardship,  and  abuse  could  utterly  kill  all  hope  and  faith  in 
the  souls  of  this  harassed  people.  The  springs  of  its  trust  in 
the  ultimate  ideal  are  fed  from  far  depths  of  history  and  tradi- 
tion. And  the  tear-filled  streams  that  pour  their  waters  into 
the  Sea  of  Pain  whisper  on  their  way:  "  Wait  yet  a  little,  God 
is  watching  still;  there  is  yet  hope  for  the  people  that  will 
not  die." 

Out  in  the  valleys  about  Mukovo  there  was  not  a  village  but 
knew  and  was  known  to  Katya.  Old  and  young  watched 
daily  from  early  spring  to  latest  autumn  for  the  first  sight  of 
a  woman's  figure  mounted  on  a  great  grey  horse,  like  a  revela- 
tion from  the  glorious  past.  Katya  rode  furiously,  spurring 
her  mount  to  a  lather,  and  setting  him  at  every  jump,  rejoicing 
when  the  wild  pace  made  herself  ache  in  every  limb.  Yussuf 
was  generally  distanced  despite  all  efforts,  and  his  mistress 
entered  the  village  she  sought  with  her  escort  far  in  the  rear. 

She  was  a  beautiful  picture  as  she  reined  up  under  the  great 
acacias,  surrounded  by  her  ragged  people,  her  cheeks  aflame, 
and  the  waves  of  her  dark  brown  hair  all  damp;  there  was  a 
happy  smile  about  her  mouth,  and  her  great  deep  eyes  shone 
in  the  shadow  of  lash  and  brow.  Her  white  habit  fitted  closely 
over  the  graceful  lines  of  her  body,  slender  now  as  in  her 
earliest  youth.  Katya  was  past  thirty,  and  had  still  the 
figure  of  a  girl;  but  there  was  a  certain  imperious  majesty  in 
her  carriage  such  as  is  only  seen  in  women  accustomed  to 
command  and  be  obeyed. 

Out  here  in  the  country  around  Stradovo,  Katya  helped  the 


192  KATYA 

poorest  of  the  poor.  She  gave  pictures  of  saints  to  the 
churches;  she  visited  the  sick  in  their  hovel-homes.  When 
Yussuf  came  up  at  long  last,  his  saddle  was  loaded  with  gifts 
for  young  and  old.  And  first  and  last  and  ever  she  encour- 
aged, fostering  hope  and  endurance  in  the  down-trodden  souls, 
speaking  of  the  past  in  words  that  made  it  living,  and  of  the 
future  as  a  prophetess  inspired.  She  was  a  mqssenger  from  the 
world  of  power  and  greatness,  sent  out  to  tell  these  poor  Slavs 
of  the  south  that  they  were  not  forgotten  in  their  bondage ; 
that  God  watched  over  them  in  heaven,  and  Russia's  Tsar 
upon  his  throne.  She  told  them  that  their  people  were  her 
people;  showed  them  in  word  and  deed  that  there  was  come 
again  a  Rilinski  to  the  Servian  lands  east  of  the  Adriatic. 

They  listened  devoutly;  her  words  were  nourishing  manna 
to  their  hungered  souls.  Old  men  and  women  kissed  her 
dress,  and  stretched  their  toil-worn  hands  in  blessing.  And 
when  she  mounted  to  leave  in  the  acacia's  shade,  there  rose 
towards  her,  low-voiced  and  trembling,  the  words  of  homage 
paid  as  their  due  to  Princes  of  her  race  in  time  long  past : 

"  Slava,  kneginya,  slava  1" — (Hail,  Princess  !) 

The  summer  was  nearly  over.  Katya  had  delayed  and 
postponed  her  departure  for  Priluka  until  now  it  was  too  late 
to  go.  Nikolai  Karatayef  thought  continually  of  the  two 
first  years  in  St.  Petersburg — the  happiest  of  his  life.  And 
here  in  Stradovo  he  had  found  again  the  wife  of  his  dreams. 
It  did  not  trouble  him  in  the  least  that  his  colleagues  paid  her 
ceaseless  attention ;  he  felt  that  it  played  but  a  small  part  in 
her  life ;  it  was  only  an  outward  form  that  she  would  miss,  this 
continual  tribute  of  page  and  troubadour.  They  were  nothing 
to  him;  he  knew  that  she  was  his  own  once  more.  Now  and 
again  he  found  it  in  his  heart  to  wish  that  she  could  be  more  a 
mother  to  their  children,  and  not  leave  them  so  entirely  to  the 
care  of  Miss  Warden  and  the  Russian  tutor.  But  he  would 
not  complain.  Here  in  Stradovo  he  had  captured  once  more 
the  swift,  elusive  object  of  his  chase;  hither  he  had  come  upon 
his  errant-knightly  quest,  and  here  it  was  that  he  should  win 
such  fame  and  honour  as  should  secure  him  guerdon  from  the 
hands  of  Katya,  his  queen.  Here  it  was  he,  who  as  the 
strongest  and  most  bold,  held  Katya  in  his  arms. 

"  Katya,"  he  said,  as  they  walked  together  among  the  glory 


SLAVA,  KNEGINYA,  SLAVA!  193 

of  late  blooming  roses — "  Katya,  I  wonder  if  you  know  all  that 
I  feel  for  you." 

"  Trust  me,  I  know  it,  Niki.  And  never  since  Priluka  have 
I  felt  you  hold  me  so  as  in  this  place." 

"  We  will  stay  here,  dearest,  shall  we  not  ?" 

"  Yes,  Niki,  let  us  stay,  till  we  are  both  grown  grey  and  old. 
I  could  grow  old  with  you,  Niki.  Never  with  anyone  else — of 
all  I  know  !" 

Yussuf  was  heard  clearing  his  throat  discreetly  at  a  distance 
and  they  disengaged  themselves  from  their  embrace. 

The  kavass  came  up  with  the  post — official  despatches  for 
the  most  part,  save  one  letter  for  Niki  and  one  for  Katya. 
Each  read  in  silence  for  a  while. 

Katya  was  the  first  to  speak.  "  News,  Niki;  what  do  you 
think  ?  I  would  never  have  believed  it  if  mama  hadn't 
written  it  herself !" 

"  What  is  it  ?"  asked  Consul  Karatayef  absently.  His 
voice  was  troubled. 

"  You'd  never  guess,  not  for  all  Priluka." 

"  Then  tell  me  what  it  is." 

"  Elisaveta  is  going  to  marry  again." 

"  Sasha's  Elisaveta — little  Sasha's  mother  ?"  Karatayef 
was  suddenly  alive  and  awake  to  Katya's  news.  He  stared 
at  her  in  astonishment. 

"  Yes,  what  do  you  say  to  that  ?" 

"Who  is  it?" 

"  Who,  indeed  !  That's  the  extraordinary  part  of  it.  An 
Austrian,  if  you  please.  Read  for  yourself:  Freiherr  v. 
Hohenstein,  Minister  at  Belgrade,  Princess  Rilinski,  mother 
to  Prince  Rilinski  of  Priluka. ...  I  would  never  have  thought 
it  of  Elisaveta — never  I" 

"  What  does  your  mother  say  about  it  herself  ?" 

"  Nothing.  Elisaveta  is  writing,  that  is  all.  Mama  thinks 
it's  politics  of  some  sort.  Perhaps  Vasili  Miliukin  is  to  l>e 
Minister  for  Foreign  Affairs  after  all,  in  spite  of  his  age.  ..." 

"  The  papers — let's  see  what  they  say." 

Both  glanced  hastily  through  the  Russian  journals,  but 
found  no  mention  of  the  matter.  The  Gazette  Ottomane, 
however,  a  French  paper  published  in  Constantinople,  con- 
tained not  only  an  announcement  of  the  appointment,  but 
gave  in  extenso  the  official  communiqub  issued  by  the  Russian 

13 


194  KATYA 

Government.  Niki  read  it  aloud.  It  stated  that  one  of  the 
most  experienced  of  Russian  statesmen,  who  for  more  than 
sixteen  years,  under  two  Tsars,  had  ably  represented  his 
country  in  the  capital  of  its  great  ally,  had  been  called  to 
the  post  of  Minister  for  Foreign  Affairs  at  a  time  when  his 
great  insight  would  enable  him  to  render  invaluable  service. 
' '  Russian  policy  is  everywhere  a  policy  of  peace,  also  in  the 
Far  East,  where  Russia  threatens  neither  the  independence 
of  China  nor  of  Corea,  its  only  desire  being,  in  perfect  agree- 
ment with  friendly  European  Cabinets,  to  secure  an  economi- 
cal, territorial,  and  maritime  position  corresponding  to  its 
interests  as  an  Asiatic  Power,  and  the  great  cost  incurred  by 
the  country  in  connection  with  the  Siberian  and  Manchurian 
railways,  which  have  brought  the  lands  in  question  into 
advantageous  contact  with  Western  civilization.'  " 

"  Ugh  !"  broke  in  Katya.  "  That  means  more  trouble  with 
the  Far  East." 

"  Wait  a  minute;  there's  a  lot  more  to  come. 

'  The  statesman  who  is  now,  by  the  will  of  the  Tsar,  called 
upon  to  direct  the  foreign  policy  of  Russia,  will  follow  un- 
deviatingly  in  the  footsteps  of  his  predecessors  as  regards 
matters  in  the  Far  East.  He  will  further,  while  preserving 
that  alliance  with  France  so  dear  to  Russian  hearts,  scrupu- 
lously adhere  to  the  traditions  that  govern  the  attitude  of 
Russia  towards  the  nearer  Orient  .  .  .'  " 

"  Bravo  !"  shouted  Katya,  clapping  her  hands. 

"  '  And  with  this  end  in  view  endeavour  to  lay  the  founda- 
tions of  a  friendly  understanding  with  the  Powers  which, 
together  with  Russia,  are  most  closely  interested  in  Balkan 
questions  .  .  .'" 

"  What  nonsense,  Niki;  it  doesn't  say  that  ?" 

"  That's  nothing.  We  haven't  come  to  the  best  part  of 
it  yet.  ' .  .  .  thus  serving  best  the  cause  of  peace  and  of  the 
peoples  concerned.  The  negotiations  of  the  last  few  days  have 
given  every  prospect  of  an  agreement  in  this  policy  at  Vienna, 
and  it  is  hoped  that  a  mutually  profitable  co-operation  between 
the  two  Great  Powers  will  shortly  be  commenced.  .  .  .'  ' 

"  Niki,  it  can't  be  true  !" 

"  It's  all  here,  my  dear,  in  French  of  Constantinople,  that 
he  who  runs  may  read." 

"  In  plain  words,  an  alliance  with  Austria  ?" 


SLAVA,  KNEGINYA,  SLAVA!  195 

"  Not  exactly  that.  It  merely  means  we  want  to  keep  the 
Balkans  quiet  for  a  time,  and  concentrate  all  our  strength 
upon  Manchuria  and  Corea." 

"  But  it  is  treachery  !  Miliukin  has  betrayed  all  these 
poor  Slavs  into  the  hands  of  Austria  !" 

"  It's  not  as  bad  as  all  that.  But  it  will  not  be  long  before 
I  receive  instructions  to  place  myself  in  communication  with 
my  respected  Austrian  colleague  here  in  Stradovo  .  .  ." 

"  Austria  ?  It  is  an  insult  !  I  tell  you,  Niki,  once  and 
for  all,  I  will  have  nothing  to  do  with  any  such  idea." 

"  Wait  and  see.  One  thing  at  any  rate  is  clear:  Elisaveta 
is  a  patriot,  and  an  obedient  child.  The  daughter  of  the 
Russian  Foreign  Minister,  who  bears  the  name  of  Rilinski, 
ancient  and  honoured  among  the  Slavs  of  the  south,  marries 
the  Austrian  Envoy  at  the  Servian  Court  out  of  consideration 
for  Russia's  policy  in  the  Far  East.  Miliukin  is  evidently 
master  in  his  own  house." 

"It  is  wicked — disgraceful !"  Katya  was  almost  on  the 
verge  of  tears.  Nikolai  Karatayef  read  through  again  the 
letter  he  himself  had  received,  and  was  silent  thereafter  for 
some  time. 

Katya  tore  petals  from  the  fading  roses  and  strewed  them 
over  path  and  lawn. 

"  Whom  was  your  letter  from,  Niki  ?"  she  asked  at  last. 

He  looked  at  her  keenly.  There  was  in  his  eyes  something 
of  that  which  she  had  vaguely  read  in  his  father's  searching 
glance  on  the  memorable  drive  from  Dubni  to  Priluka.  He 
hesitated  a  moment  before  answering : 

"  From  George  Farringham." 

"  Farringham  !  Niki,  what  does  he  say  ?  I  had  almost 
forgotten  him." 

"  He  writes  to  say  that  he  has  been  appointed  British 
Consul  in  Stradovo." 

"  Hurrah  !     Niki,  T  am  glad  !" 

"  You  do  not  find  it  strange  ?" 

"  Strange  ?  What  do  you  mean  ?  You  say  it  as  if 
you  .  .  ."  She  paused  uncertainly. 

"  He  came  to  Belgrade.  There  was  nothing  very  re- 
markable in  that,  although  he  had  always  been  in  Western 
Europe  before.  His  arrival  at  Constantinople  while  we  were 
there  was  not  difficult  to  explain :  simple  promotion,  as  in  our 


196  KATYA 

own  case.  But  from  Constantinople  to  Stradovo,  for  an 
Englishman  with  Farringham's  seniority  in  the  service,  it  is 
the  reverse  of  promotion.  It  has  never  occurred  to  me  before, 
but  on  reading  his  letter,  it  seems  to  me  remarkable,  the 
way  in  which  he  follows  us — or,  rather,  you." 

"I  suppose  ...  I  see  . . .  what  you  mean,"  said  Katya  slowly. 
"  And  we  were  so  happy  ..." 

She  stood  \vith  bowed  head,  shedding  the  rose-leaves  idly 
on  the  wind.  Then  she  went  up  to  her  husband,  and  putting 
both  arms  about  his  neck,  she  whispered : 

"  Niki,  my  own  strong  Niki,  do  not  be  afraid." 


CHAPTER  IV 

ANNA  NIKOLAIEVNA 

THE  old  house  in  the  Konnaya  was  altered  almost  beyond 
recognition. 

General  Karatayef  had  had  all  the  rooms,  save  Anna 
Dimitrievna's  own,  redecorated  from  floor  to  ceiling,  and  a 
whole  suite  of  apartments  stood  ready  all  the  year  round  to 
receive  Niki  and  his  family  at  a  moment's  notice.  As  far 
as  possible,  all  traces  of  the  ill-fated  former  owner  had  been 
removed.  The  only  coats-of-arms  about  the  place  were  the 
Karatayefs'  crossed  blades  on  azure  field,  beside  the  shield 
of  the  Rilinskis  with  its  many  quarterings,  where  eagles 
argent,  fleurs  de  lys,  and  lions  gules  mingled  confusingly 
against  a  background  of  ermine,  the  whole  surmounted  by  a 
princely  coronet. 

No  attempt  had  been  made  to  restore  or  emulate  the  original 
splendour  of  the  decorations,  although  the  size  of  the  rooms 
lent  itself  temptingly  thereto.  General  Karatayef  sought, 
on  the  contrary,  to  lessen  the  lofty  impression  by  a  selection 
of  quiet,  simple  colours,  both  as  regards  the  wall-paper  and 
the  many  tapestries  and  hangings  which  he  himself,  with 
careful  judgment,  had  chosen  from  the  stock  of  Russian  and 
Oriental  shops  in  Odessa.  A  single  room,  one  of  the  smallest, 
was  decorated  in  white  and  gold.  It  was  to  be  little  Anna 
Nikolaievna's  own.  The  gold-framed  panels  between  the 
white-lacquered  pillars  were  covered  at  first  with  pale  blue 


ANNA  NIKOLAIEVNA  197 

silk  brocade.  Gradually,  however,  the  silk  gave  place  to 
squares  of  broidered  stuff,  each  representing  a  picture  from 
the  story  of  a  little  girl's  life.  These  works  of  art,  of  which 
each  year  brought  one  or  more,  called  forth  Katya's  unfeigned 
admiration.  "  I  cannot  understand,"  she  said  to  her  father- 
in-law,  "  why  that  stupid  firm  whose  address  you  gave  me 
never  took  any  notice  of  my  orders.  But  it  is  just  as  well, 
perhaps,  for  I'm  sure  Niki  and  I  could  not  afford  to  go  on 
buying  things  like  that.  Those  panels  must  be  worth  a 
fortune !" 

Osip  and  Kapitolina  did  not  attempt  to  conceal  the  fact 
that  they  were  far  from  pleased  at  the  new  order  of  things. 
They  seemed  to  regard  the  redecoration  and  all  that  it 
implied  as  a  kind  of  breach  of  the  contract  tacitly  understood 
to  exist  between  the  General  and  themselves.  They  had  left 
the  place  of  their  birth  to  follow  the  master  and  mistress 
whom  they  knew,  never  caring  how  or  where  their  nomad 
home  was  built  at  the  shifting  stages  of  their  long  wandering 
through  mighty  Russia.  This  last  decree,  however,  that  all 
about  them  should  be  changed,  that  they  should  live  among 
a  host  of  new  and  marvellous  things  too  splendid  to  be  touched, 
almost  to  glance  at — this  was  oppression  more  than  they  could 
bear.  Niki's  first  visit  with  his  wife  and  child,  on  the  way 
from  Priluka  to  Constantinople,  had  led  to  conflict,  almost 
to  open  war,  between  the  General's  two  retainers  and  Katya's 
maids.  And  when  the  General  categorically  banned  the 
merest  odour  of  cabbage  soup  within  the  house  as  long  as  his 
son  and  family  were  there  in  residence,  Osip  and  Kapitolina 
felt  that  the  pillars  of  this  their  world  were  tottering.  It  was 
high  time  to  seek  once  more  the  little  village  in  the  neigh- 
bourhood of  Tomsk,  ere  the  disruption  reached  and  shook 
that  sacred  corner  of  the  universe  where  dwelt  their  waiting 
kin. 

General  Karatayef  acquiesced.  He  offered  them  money 
for  the  journey,  and  such  small  capital  as  would  suffice  to 
keep  them  in  modest  comfort  for  the  years  that  yet  remained. 
But  the  pleasant  dallying  with  irresponsible  intention  being 
thus  ruthlessly  displaced  by  the  stern  demand  for  irrevocable 
action,  Osip  and  Kapitolina  found  themselves  besieged  by 
legion  hosts  of  hesitance  and  doubt.  Their  grave  considera- 
tion took  two  further  years,  during  which  time  no  tradesman 


198  KATYA 

in  the  quarter,  no  artisan  in  all  the  neighbourhood,  but  was 
convened  to  counsel  them  upon  the  point.  At  last,  however, 
when  the  already  numerous  suite  of  Niki  Karatayef  and  his 
wife  received  the  resplendent  addition  of  the  gold-embroidered 
Yussuf,  Osip  and  Kapitolina  could  no  more.  Yussuf  was  a 
Mohammedan,  openly  and  unashamed:  a  heathen  irre- 
claimable. Moreover,  he  had  a  voice  of  command  which 
shook  the  patient  Osip  to  the  depths  of  his  long-suffering 
soul.  Followed  decision,  final  and  inflexible:  Osip  and 
Kapitolina  wished  to  leave  at  once.  That  their  depaiture 
was  postponed  from  day  to  day  for  some  two  months  was 
wholly  and  entirely  due  to  the  fact  of  the  new  Trans-Siberian 
Railway  having  meanwhile  sprung  into  active  existence. 
Osip  and  Kapitolina  had  left  Siberia  by  sledge;  by  sledge  they 
would  return.  The  General  issued  a  comprehensive  embargo 
embracing  such  and  similar  means  of  transport;  new  de- 
liberations became  imperative.  And  when,  at  long  and 
painful  last,  the  two  old  creatures  found  themselves  in  the 
train,  their  exile  ended,  and  their  haven  near,  they  wept  the 
fruitless  tears  of  those  whom  their  own  action  binds.  And 
Osip's  last  word  to  his  barin  was  that  he  never  would  forget 
how  Yussuf  had  been  kind  to  little  Anna.  .  .  . 

General  Karatayef's  new  servant  and  housekeeper  led  a 
pleasantly  indolent  life  for  the  first  year  of  their  service,  save 
during  the  few  days  of  Niki's  stay.  The  General's  habits 
were  simple  as  they  had  always  been;  his  wants  as  few. 
Every  evening  he  retired  to  his  study,  and  when  the  samovar 
had  been  brought  in,  he  locked  the  door,  and  required  no 
further  service.  All  attempts  at  spying  proved  fruitless. 
The  new  servants  were  at  last  forced  to  content  themselves 
with  the  theory,  which  gradually  grew  to  a  conviction,  that 
he  spent  his  evenings  counting  over  his  money.  His  riches 
formed  the  subject  of  innumerable  stories  throughout  the 
quarter. 

Nor  was  this  entirely  without  reason.  The  great  building 
project  at  Peressip  which  he  had  conceived  some  twenty 
years  before,  and  had  carried  out  in  conjunction  with  Prince 
Rilinski  and  the  Kherson  Bank,  had  proved  a  splendidly 
remunerative  business.  All  his  calculations  had  proved 
correct.  The  Local  Traffic  Harbour  grew  and  grew,  as  the 
commerce  and  industry  of  the  town  and  all  South  Russia 


ANNA  NTKOLAIEVNA  199 

increased.  Thousands  of  workmen  moved  into  Odessa  with 
their  families,  and  the  new  suburb  of  Peressip  lay  ready  to 
house  its  share  of  the  immigrant  stream.  The  buildings 
owned  by  the  General,  Prince  Rilinski,  and  the  Bank,  proved 
insufficient  to  meet  the  increasing  demand.  Other  specu- 
lators built  new  houses,  continuing  the  line  of  the  street 
which  Karatayef  had  called  Novaya  Ekaterinskaya,  after  his 
son's  wife,  and  laying  out  others  behind  it. 

As  a  man  of  business,  General  Karatayef  had  won  great 
triumphs,  both  for  himself  and  those  whose  fate  had  once  lain 
in  his  hand.  Prince  Sergei  Rilinski  had  died  a  rich  man,  or 
at  least  a  man  of  comfortable  means.  The  young  Prince 
Alexander  Alexandrovitch  would,  on  succeeding  to  the  estate 
of  Priluka,  receive  in  addition  thereto,  beside  his  maternal 
inheritance,  a  share  of  the  holdings  in  Peressip,  making  him 
one  of  the  richest  nobles  in  Ukraine.  Sonya  had  married 
a  wealthy  man,  and  had  brought  her  husband  a  third  of  the 
Rilinski  property  in  Odessa.  Advocate  Mandelberg,  the 
administrator  of  the  whole  undertaking,  had  made  his  fortune 
out  of  it.  Finally,  Katya  possessed  her  third  of  the  Rilinski 
part  in  her  own  right,  and  as  Niki's  wife,  the  whole  of  that 
portion  which  had  been  added  after  the  General's  conversation 
with  her  father  at  Priluka,  some  fifteen  years  before.  General 
Karatayef,  his  son  and  daughter-in-law,  were  incontestably 
among  the  greatest  private  landowners  in  Odessa,  and  the 
capital  which  the  old  man  had  invested  on  his  own  and  Katya's 
account  in  Peressip  gave  princely  dividends. 

It  was  not  strange  that  General  Karatayef,  sitting  of  an 
evening  with  spectacled  eyes  bent  over  his  embroidery,  should 
let  his  thoughts  turn  rather  to  the  past  than  to  the  present 
or  the  future.  His  years  of  service  were  now  so  far  away 
that  no  remembrance  of  the  means  he  had  employed  to 
further  his  son's  career  was  likely  to  exist  in  any  mind  save 
his  own.  Even  rumour  had  long  been  silent.  The  under- 
taking in  Peressip  was  sufficient  to  explain  the  source  of  his 
wealth;  no  one  cared  any  longer  to  ask  what  lay  behind  that. 
All  danger  was  eliminated.  Anna  Dimitrievna's  prayers  had 
been  heard,  and  when,  in  the  years  after  Niki's  marriage,  and 
especially  after  his  appointment  to  Stradovo,  the  old  man 
sent  yearly  thousands  and  thousands  of  roubles  to  his  son, 
he  rejoiced  to  see  his  winnings  flung  that  way,  reflecting  that 


200  KATYA 

they  served  not  only  his  son  and  little  Anna,  but  also,  in  a 
way,  the  State  itself.  His  son  could  now,  in  the  service  of 
his  country,  to  its  greater  honour  and  power,  draw  richly 
from  the  coffers  he  himself  had  filled  by  slow,  dishonest  degrees. 
General  Karatayef  never  demurred  to  the  demands  for  money 
which  were  continually  coming  in  through  Mandelberg.  In 
the  course  of  some  eighteen  months,  Stradovo  had  cost,  then, 
almost  fifty  thousand  roubles,  besides  Niki's  salary.  Had  it 
been  double  that  sum  the  General  would  not  have  murmured. 
Directed  through  the  proper  hands,  the  stream  of  gold  was 
flowing  round  again  to  fill  its  source. 

And  yet  it  seemed  as  though  the  money  were  accursed. 
Many  times  now,  during  his  long  and  toilsome  wandering, 
had  General  Karatayef  seen  the  star  of  fortune  shine  above 
his  son's  path:  its  gleam  had  soon  been  darkened.  So  on 
that  summer  clay  at  Priluka,  when  the  old  man  for  a  moment 
had  imagined  that  the  end  was  reached,  and  he  himself  at 
liberty  to  lay  his  troubled  head  to  rest  beside  Anna  Dimitrievna. 
But  still  he  heard  that  little  pitiful  gasp  that  told  of  Sonya's 
hurt.  Still  he  could  see  the  young  officer  seeking  a  hiding- 
place  amid  the  shade  and  solitude  of  the  park,  to  leave  Priluka 
after,  with  bowed  head  and  broken  courage.  It  was  no 
joyous  feast,  that  day,  at  the  white  palace  in  Ukraine. 
General  Karatayef  felt  oppressed  by  fear,  as  though  warned 
by  secret  omens. 

He  never  dared,  however,  to  say  a  word  to  Niki,  who, 
in  his  turn,  could  scarcely  meet  Sonya's  eyes.  This 
was  his  son's  fault,  the  fatal  error  of  his  life.  General 
Karatayef  had  learned  from  Mandelberg  and  from  Princess 
Rilinski  the  circumstances  of  Sonya's  marriage  with  young 
Count  Dolgoruki.  And  all  that  he  heard  about  them 
after  the  event  seemed  to  indicate  that  their  life  was  one  of 
quiet  harmony.  Shortly  after  Niki's  appointment  to 
Stradovo,  Gavril  Ivanovitch  and  his  young  wife,  with  their 
two  little  children,  Boris  and  Anastasia,  had  been  moved  from 
St.  Petersburg  to  Odessa,  where  Count  Dolgoruki  now  held 
an  important  post  as  Chief  of  the  Civil  Cabinet  under  the 
Governor-General  of  the  Kherson,  Prince  Olenin.  General 
Karatayef  called  on  the  young  couple,  and  the}^  returned 
his  visit.  Gradually  they  came  to  see  a  great  deal  of  each 
other,  and  the  old  house  in  the  Konnaya  became  less  of  a 


ANNA  NIKOLAIEVNA  201 

sinecure  for  the  two  servants  than  these  originally  had 
imagined.  The  General  gave  dinners  to  Count  and  Countess 
Dolgoruki  and  their  relations  whenever  any  of  the  latter 
came  to  visit  them.  Elena  Ivanovna  was  a  frequent  guest. 
She  was  still  unmarried,  and  if  the  years  that  had  passed  did 
not  seem  to  have  furthered  her  development,  they  had  at  least 
not  robbed  her  of  her  touching  childish  gratefulness  of  heart. 
It  was  during  one  of  these  parties  at  the  General's  that  the 
stately  Countess  Vera  Mikailovna,  in  whom  no  one  could  any 
longer  recognize  "  Vera  Nadeshda,"  asked  her  host  to 
administer  a  considerable  sum  of  money  which  she  wished 
to  contribute  towards  the  building  of  a  church  in  Peressip. 
Before  the  evening  was  out,  the  guests  present  had  either 
themselves  subscribed  or  promised  to  obtain  sums  running 
up  to  such  a  figure  that  the  General  was  able  to  have  the 
work  commenced  at  once.  The  church  was  to  be  dedicated 
to  St.  Sofia  as  soon  as  it  was  completed,  in  the  course  of  a 
couple  of  years.  Katya  had  her  street  in  Peressip,  along 
the  shore  of  the  Black  Sea ;  Sonya  was  to  have  her  blue-domed 
church. 

General  Karatayef  grew  to  know  the  young  Countess  in 
her  home.  He  saw  her  with  her  husband  and  her  children, 
and  thought  often  how  like  she  was  to  her  mother.  The 
melancholy  which  had  fallen  upon  her  in  the  time  following 
Niki's  dear-bought  victory  at  Priluka  disappeared  by  degrees, 
and  gave  place  to  a  restful  calm  that  had  something  almost 
holy  in  its  perfect,  patient  peace.  Sonya  lived  for  her  husband, 
who  idolized  her,  and  for  their  children,  who  loved  her 
passionately.  This  marriage  had  no  dramatic  happening  for 
its  origin ;  there  was  nothing  about  it  to  attract  the  attention 
of  others.  But  it  became  a  ray  of  light  along  the  life-line 
of  that  generation  whose  youth  had  filled  Priluka  at  the  time 
when  Prince  Sergei  Arkadievitch  had  been  head  of  the  family 
of  Rilinski. 

And  it  was  Sonya  whom  Niki  had  betrayed.  Happiness 
had  waited  him  with  open  arms,  and  he  had  turned  away. 
He  had  been  struck  with  blindness,  and  he  and  his  father 
saw  only  when  it  was  too  late.  General  Karatayef  had  left 
Priluka  on  that  summer  day  as  deep  in  disappointment, 
doubt,  and  fear,  as  Lieutenant  Orloff  himself,  and  it  was  this 
consciousness  of  suffering  shared  that  waked  his  sympathy 


202  KATYA 

for  the  young  man.  Not  that  the  General  regretted  the 
sacrifice  he  had  made — it  was  but  little  compared  with  others 
that  life  had  asked  of  him — but  it  should  have  been  made  for 
Sonya's  sake.  It  was  with  a  feeling  of  horror  that  General 
Karatayef  saw  the  careless  indifference  with  which  Katya 
sought  to  wipe  out  the  impression  of  her  sister's  and  Petya 
Orloff's  suffering;  and  he  would  never  forget  that  Niki,  on 
the  very  day  of  his  triumph,  had  walked  as  one  a  prey  to 
remorse  and  bitter  shame. 

The  star  of  fortune  shone  no  more.  The  power  which 
General  Karatayef  had  toiled  and  striven  to  win,  vanished 
in  the  decisive  moment  from  his  hand.  He  had  attained 
to  win  for  his  son  a  daughter  of  the  Rilinskis  in  marriage,  but 
he  had  not  been  able  to  bring  him  happiness. 

During  the  first  years  in  St.  Petersburg,  when  it  seemed  for 
a  while  that  all  their  hopes  would  be  fulfilled,  the  General 
turned  once  more  to  bright  and  hopeful  colours  in  his  patterns. 
He  began  to  think  he  had  been  mistaken  in  Katya.  He  knew 
that  she  was  of  those  women  who  can  act  greatly  when  the 
swing  and  sway  of  their  unstable  minds  hold  them  for  a 
moment  at  the  height  of  a  noble  mood.  And  he  hoped  that 
Niki  might  prove  able  to  tame  the  beautiful  wild  bird  from 
the  plains  of  Ukraine,  and  hold  her  happily  caged  behind  the 
golden  bars  of  a  home.  Katya  was  right;  Niki  was  strong, 
horribly  strong.  .  .  . 

And  so  it  was  that  the  first  chapter  of  the  story  panelled 
in  Anna  Nikolaievna's  room  showed  good  and  kindly  fairies 
kneeling  beside  the  cradle  of  a  little  girl. 

It  was  not  long,  however,  before  the  good  fairies  dis- 
appeared, leaving  the  child  alone  among  strangers.  Niki's 
letters,  and  even  more  the  impression  of  himself  and  Katya 
on  their  visits,  told  of  secret  troubles,  hidden  anxieties,  and 
doubt.  The  two  flitted  restlessly  from  place  to  place.  Their 
life  was  a  continual  moving,  there  was  scarcely  time  to  found 
a  home  even  if  Katya  had  had  any  thought  for  so  doing. 
Little  Anna  Nikolaievna  and  her  brother  grew  up  in  an 
atmosphere  of  travel  and  brief  halts,  entrusted  mainly  to 
the  care  of  French  and  English  servants,  while  their  mother, 
butterfly-like,  sought  distraction  in  continual  fluttering  after 
men's  homage. 

General  Karatayef  had  no  longer  any  forgiveness  in  his 


ANNA  NIKOLAIEVNA  203 

heart  for  Katya.  She  wearied  and  tortured  her  husband; 
she  let  her  children  shiver  by  a  cold  hearth.  And  gradually 
the  old  General  grew  to  hate  her.  She  had  crushed  the  power 
which  he  had  won :  it  was  she  who  for  a  whim  had  upset  all 
his  careful  plans,  and  robbed  him  of  the  reward  that  should 
have  crowned  his  long  and  painful  pilgrimage  through  swamp 
and  thorn. 

He  altered  his  will,  making  such  disposition  of  his  fortune 
as  should  prevent  her  ever  being  able  to  touch  more  of  what 
was  his  and  Niki's  than  was  absolutely  unavoidable.  He 
instructed  Mandelberg  to  reduce  the  insurance  on  Katya's 
part  of  Peressip  to  a  minimum.  To  Sonya,  and  to  Petya 
Orloff  he  left  large  sums;  and  in  particular  he  took  all  that 
he  possibly  could  from  Katya  and  gave  to  her  daughter. 
A  clause  in  the  will  distinctly  stated  that  Anna  Nikolaievna 
was  to  be  regarded,  even  during  Niki's  lifetime,  as  principal 
heiress.  In  case  of  Niki's  predeceasing  his  wife,  then  Sonya's 
husband,  Count  Gavril  Dolgoruki,  or  his  nominee,  would 
administer  Anna  Nikolaievna's  fortune,  which  Katya  would 
not  under  any  circumstances  be  able  to  touch.  Mandelberg 
had  no  need  to  ask  questions.  The  General's  dispositions 
showed  clearly  enough  what  had  come  of  the  relation  between 
the  houses  of  Karatayef  and  Rilinski,  and  he  recollected  a 
remark  of  his  own  to  the  General,  after  his  visit  to  Priluka, 
concerning  Katya.  General  Karatayef  had  not  understood 
him  then:  events  had  proved  how  right  his  judgment  had 
been. 

During  the  first  year  of  Niki's  and  Katya's  stay  in  Stradovo 
General  Karatayef  had  begun  to  doubt  again.  Perhaps  he 
had  been  wrong  after  all  ...  perhaps  Katya  had  now  arrived 
at  that  point  in  her  development  where  she  could  blossom 
out  into  a  real  wife  for  Niki,  later  to  become  a  real  mother  to 
his  children.  The  panels  on  the  walls  of  white  and  gold  in 
Anna  Nikolaievna's  room  received  a  new  and  brighter  picture 
from  the  story  of  a  little  girl's  joys  and  sorrows.  The  fire 
rekindled  on  the  hearth  to  warm  and  cheer  the  shivering  child 
that  had  been  left  to  wander  lonely  among  strangers. 

But  now  the  General  had  begun  to  choose  again  silk  of 
a  melancholy  hue.  He  could  read  in  Niki's  letters  the  same 
old  restless  anxiety  and  torturing  doubt.  And  Anna  Niko- 
laievna spoke  to  his  heart  when,  in  her  letters  to  her  grand- 


204  KATYA 

* 

father,  she  wrote  that  little  Sergei's  old  friend  "  Uncle 
George  "  had  come  to  Stradovo,  that  he  rode  much  with 
mama,  and  that  papa  nearly  always  stayed  at  home,  and 
how  all  was  dismal  and  cold  in  that  town  with  the  ugly 
name.  .  .  . 

Anna  Nikolaievna  was  in  no  way  beautiful.  There  was 
nothing  about  her,  save,  perhaps,  the  great,  dark,  expressive 
eyes,  to  remind  one  of  her  mother.  Her  somewhat  heavy 
features  and  squareness  of  figure  were  Niki's.  She  moved 
quietly,  gliding  about  among  her  elders  as  though  fearing 
to  disturb  them,  and  her  games  were  for  the  most  part  played 
in  silence.  She  soon  appeared  to  be  old  beyond  her  years. 
Uncommunicative  as  she  was,  there  grew  no  confidence 
between  her  and  other  children  whom  she  met.  Of  the  young 
cousins  with  whom  she  was  brought  into  contact  at  Priluka 
the  only  one  who  gained  her  friendship  and  returned  it  was 
Sasha's  son — "  Little  Sasha."  She  went  on  her  little  errands 
as  far  as  possible  alone,  but  liked  to  have  Yussuf  somewhere 
within  call.  The  only  human  beings  who  possessed  her 
confidence  were  her  father  and  grandfather. 

During  the  Karatayefs'  second  stay  in  Constantinople, 
shortly  after  their  return  from  Trebizond,  the  General  had 
paid  them  a  visit — the  only  time  he  had  entered  their  house 
since  little  Anna's  christening  in  St.  Petersburg.  Katya 
had  invited  a  large  party  in  his  honour,  a  tribute  which  he 
did  not  in  the  least  appreciate.  The  guests  were  almost 
exclusively  young  men  in  the  Diplomatic  Service,  with  their 
wives.  Korenof  the  Ambassador  was  also  present.  Katya 
was  splendidly  and  very  expensively  dressed  in  a  costume 
somewhat  daringly  devised,  perhaps,  but  which  suited  her 
admirably.  The  ladies  present  she  left  to  look  after  them- 
selves entirely.  Korenof  happened  to  be  deep  in  her  disfavour, 
and  he  and  the  General  were  allowed  to  entertain  each  other 
as  best  they  could.  Katya  was  surrounded  by  a  circle  of 
young  men.  She  seemed  to  draw  them  to  her  by  command, 
and  none  dared  leave  her  immediate  presence  without  her 
permission. 

And  while  the  Ambassador  held  forth  wittily  upon  Russia's 
change  of  policy  in  the  Balkans,  General  Karatayefs  small, 
sharp  eyes  glanced  from  Katya  and  her  court  slowly  round 
the  room. 


ANNA  NIKOLAIEVNA  205 

There  was  his  son.  Niki  did  not  look  well  in  evening- 
dress:  he  carried  himself  with  an  awkward  consciousness. 
And  he  was  trying  now  in  vain  to  make  the  ladies  forget  his 
wife's  neglect  of  themselves.  He  could  not  hide  the  fact 
that  he  felt  himself  superfluous  in  this  house  which  should  be 
his,  where  he  alone  should  possess  that  favour  which  Katya 
carelessly  strewed  abroad  to  these  guests  of  an  evening. 

There  was  George  Farringham — he  also  stood  outside  the 
admiring  group  that  surrounded  Katya.  She  did  not  seem 
to  have  any  need  of  him :  an  old  conquest,  now  securely  her 
possession,  and  therefore  needing  no  present  effort  or  con- 
sideration. Farringham,  however,  had  eyes  for  none  in  the 
crowded  salon  save  Katya.  His  eyes  rested  on  her  in  dreamy, 
unconscious  worship.  The  Ambassador's  voice  grew  for 
a  moment  distant  and  vague  in  the  General's  ears.  He 
made  an  effort  to  recover  himself  and  fashion  a  random 
answer,  almost  fearing  lest  he  should  succumb  to  a  sudden 
mad  temptation  and  cry  aloud  across  the  room:  "  Niki,  my 
son,  take  care  !" 

There  was  his  little  granddaughter,  Anna  Nikolaievna, 
sitting  alone  in  the  darkest  corner  among  flowers  and  heavy 
hangings.  She  had  evidently  hidden  herself  there,  or  had 
been  forgotten.  She  should  have  been  in  bed  long  since. 
She  did  not  seem  to  notice  that  her  grandfather  was  observing 
her.  Her  eyes — the  big,  earnest  eyes  of  a  child — were  intent 
on  Katya,  the  resplendent  centre  of  the  brilliant  room,  in  her 
daringly  fascinating  dress,  drinking  in  the  reflection  of  her 
triumphant  youthful  beauty  in  the  homage  of  her  court. 
Anna  looked  long  at  her  mother.  The  General  shivered. 
There  was  that  in  the  child's  eyes  which  was  neither  admira- 
tion nor  affection,  but  rather  suspicion  and  anxiety. 

The  General  found  an  excuse  to  escape  from  Korenof  and 
his  discourse,  and  made  his  way  over  to  where  his  grand- 
daughter sat.  She  started  as  he  laid  a  hand  upon  her 
shoulder. 

"  Come,  little  Anna,  let  me  take  you  upstairs  and  say  good- 
night. Jeannette  must  have  quite  forgotten  you." 

"  Grandpapa,"  she  whispered,  holding  fast  to  his  hand, 
"  let  us  go  away  quite  quietly;  mother  will  be  angry  if  we 
disturb  her." 

That  evening  the  two  made  secret  and  unspoken  alliance. 


206  KATYA 

The  old  man  knew,  without  need  of  words,  that  they  under- 
stood each  other.  They  stood  united  in  their  love.  It  was 
Niki  who  drew  their  hands  and  hearts  together.  Both 
trembled  with  the  same  anxiety,  the  same  suspicion.  The 
child  and  the  old  man  read  in  each  other's  soul  that  they  had 
one  enemy  in  common. 

General  Karatayef  sent  his  granddaughter  many  presents. 
He  wrote  but  seldom  to  her  with  his  pen,  but  his  busy  needle 
fashioned  many  letters  which  told  her  of  his  lonely  work, 
his  untiring  care,  his  fears  and  doubts  as  to  the  fate  of  those 
he  loved.  And  gradually  the  child  grew  to  clearly  read  this 
secret  writing,  led  by  a  certain  instinct  which  told  her  that 
whatever  pattern  and  figure  outwardly  might  seem  to  repre- 
sent, the  key  to  understanding  of  them  all  lay  in  the  old 
man's  love  for  herself  and  her  father.  The  exclamations  of 
her  mother,  Miss  Warden,  and  Jeannette  each  time  a  new 
parcel  of  embroidery  from  Odessa  was  opened,  gave  her  a 
hint  as  to  the  rarity  and  value  of  the  work.  She  realized 
that  she  was  the  only  one  who  ever  received  such  gifts,  and 
always  from  the  same  single  hand.  Slowly  she  came  to  the 
conclusion  that  her  grandfather  did  not  buy  these  things, 
or  let  others  make  them,  but  that  they  were  his  work.  And 
instinct  told  her  that  the  charm  would  be  broken  if  ever  she 
should  tell  to  others  what  she  so  certainly  knew.  She  kept 
the  secret,  with  so  many  others,  to  herself  alone.  Only  by 
an  occasional  hint  did  she  reveal  to  her  grandfather  that  she 
understood.  "  Thank  you,  dear  grandpapa,  for  your  beautiful 
embroideries,"  she  would  say,  with  the  slightest  emphasis, 
and  the  two  would  exchange  a  glance  of  loving  and  delighted 
understanding. 

The  letters  she  wrote  to  him  were  such  that  any  might 
have  read  without  finding  anything  remarkable.  And  yet 
they  told  the  old  man  often  more  than  his  son's.  When 
Anna  wrote  that  she  was  glad  to  be  in  Stradovo,  and  father 
too,  he  knew  what  there  was  meant.  And  when  she  told 
how  little  Sergei  had  had  a  visit  from  his  "  Uncle  George," 
he  understood  that  truce  was  at  an  end.  His  little  sentinel 
never  slept  at  her  post.  Each  year  she  grew  more  watchful, 
more  observant.  From  half-dark  corners  Anna  Nikolaievna's 
great  deep  eyes  gazed  at  her  mother,  and  if  Katya  had  ever 
looked,  she  would  have  seen  how  hostile  was  that  glance. 


HORSEMANSHIP— AND  OTHER  MATTERS       207 

General  Karatayef  chose  his  silks  of  melancholy  hue.  His 
son  and  the  child,  whose  life  held  but  so  little  joy,  were 
shivering  by  the  cold  hearth  in  that  City  of  Suffering.  His 
own  power  was  broken.  The  goal  of  his  long  pilgrimage 
was  ever  receding.  He  felt  his  strength  would  die  before 
he  ever  reached  the  end. 

There  were  many  that  whispered  how  the  old  General  shut 
himself  up  at  night  to  count  and  count  his  piles  of  gold; 
none  that  had  seen  the  weary,  lonely  man  bent  with  dim, 
spectacled  eyes  over  the  patterns  of  his  sorrow  and  his  fear. 


CHAPTER  V 

HORSEMANSHIP — AND   OTHER  MATTERS 

RUSSIA  and  Austria-Hungary  had  in  concert  forced  Abdul 
Hamid  to  agree  to  an  extensive  programme  of  reform  in  the 
administration  of  Macedonia  and  Old  Servia.  The  reforms 
included  not  only  the  political  government,  but  also  taxes, 
traffic,  and  industry.  The  execution  of  the  whole  was,  with 
the  approval  of  the  two  Great  Powers,  entrusted  to  the  former 
Governor  of  Arabia,  Hassan  Fehmi  Pasha,  one  of  the  finest 
statesmen  in  the  Ottoman  Empire.  He  was  appointed 
Inspector- General  of  all  the  vilayets  in  European  Turkey, 
with  residence  now  in  one,  now  in  another  of  the  Mace- 
donian towns. 

Meanwhile,  the  fact  that  Russia's  attention,  under  Vasili 
Miliukin's  regime,  was  directed  rather  towards  the  Far  East 
than  to  the  nearer  Orient,  rendered  the  Bulgarians  bolder 
than  before.  They  strove  with  every  means  in  their  power 
to  force  Russia  and  the  rest  of  Europe  to  further  the  realiza- 
tion of  their  dreams  of  a  Bulgarian  Empire  which  was  to 
embrace  the  greater  part  of  Macedonia.  On  both  banks  of 
the  Vardar  armed  bands  of  Bulgarians  spread  riot  about  the 
country.  Russian  Consuls  who  attempted  to  oppose  the 
movement  found  their  lives  threatened.  By  force  of  arms 
and  systematic  rapine  the  Bulgarians  attempted  to  coerce 
the  Servians  also  to  enlist  under  their  new  flag.  The  district 
around  Stradovo  had  been  harried  since  St.  George's  Day 
by  conflict  between  the  Turkish  troops  and  the  insurgents. 


208  KATYA 

In  Russia  itself  there  was  a  growing  ill-will  towards  the 
business  in  the  Far  East,  and  its  humiliating  consequence — 
co-operation  with  Austria  against  the  Slavs  of  the  Balkans 
— and  agitators  boldly  attempted  to  use  the  discontent  as  a 
means  of  further  exciting  the  revolutionary  movement  among 
peasants  and  workmen.  Turkey,  on  her  part,  was  deeply 
incensed  at  this  interference,  on  a  hitherto  unknown  scale, 
on  the  part  of  Russia  and  Austria.  The  Young  Turks  began 
to  raise  their  heads  again.  The  army  was  offended  at  a 
proviso  in  the  Reform  Programme  stipulating  for  the  appoint- 
ment of  foreign  officers  to  command  the  gendarmerie  in 
Macedonia.  Nowhere,  however,  were  the  fruits  of  Vasili 
Miliukin's  policy  so  clearly  evident  as  in  Albania.  The 
"  reforms  "  were  here  regarded  as  a  victory  of  the  Christians 
over  the  Mohammedans.  If  the  Sultan  had  agreed  to  such 
dire  humiliation,  it  could  only  have  been  under  compulsion. 
Russia  had  again  bitterly  shamed  the  followers  of  the  Prophet 
and  their  Lord  the  Sultan.  Deaf  to  the  prayers  and  warnings 
of  Turkish  officials,  the  wild  and  independent  people  between 
the  Adriatic  and  Macedonia  prepared  to  take  revenge  upon 
the  enemies  of  Islam  and  the  Khalif . 

On  both  sides  of  the  Vardar  the  land  was  already  aflame 
when  the  rumour  flew  from  hut  to  cottage  that  the  Albanians 
were  sallying  out  from  their  mountain  hold. 

In  one  of  the  villages  out  by  Mukovo  Yesero,  Katya  reined 
in  her  foaming,  trembling  mount.  Old  men  and  women  flocked 
about  her,  children  ran  out  into  the  fields  to  call  their  parents 
in  to  where  "  the  Princess "  halted  under  the  flowering 
acacias. 

The  old  Muktar  of  the  village  asked  her  if  it  were  true  that 
the  Albanians  again  were  coming,  as  they  had  done  three 
years  before,  to  tear  down  the  Russian  flag  from  the  Con- 
sulate in  Stradovo,  and  murder  the  great  Gospodar,  the 
Russian  Consul. 

"  Yes,"  she  answered,  "  I  believe  it  is  so.  But  do  not  fear, 
my  children,  Halim  Pasha  has  many  new  troops,  and  there 
have  come  cannon  also  from  Salonika  and  Tsargrad.  Do  not 
fear,  the  Russian  Consul  will  be  well  defended." 

"  But  we,  Princess,  ourselves  ?"  The  Muktar  shook  his 
grey  head  apprehensively;  women  and  children  sighed  in 


HORSEMANSHIP— AND  OTHER  MATTERS      209 

chorus.    The  sound  was  as  the  breathing  of  the  lake  itself 
at  evening. 

"  Hasten  in  to  Stradovo,  as  many  of  you  as  can,  and  seek 
safety  behind  the  guns  of  Halim  Pasha's  men." 

"  And  the  sick,  Princess  ?  And  all  the  little  we  have — 
corn  in  the  fields  and  ox  and  horse  in  stable  ?" 

"  Ah,  Heaven,  if  I  could  only  help  you  !" 

"  If  you  cannot,  Princess,  who  can  ?" 

There  was  a  sound  of  hoofs  upon  the  road :  two  riders  were 
bearing  down  at  a  sharp  trot  upon  the  little  group  beneath 
the  acacias. 

It  was  George  Farringham  and  his  kavass.  A  bright  smile 
flashed  across  Katya's  face,  and  she  waved  her  riding-whip 
in  welcome. 

"  You  here  again,  and  alone  ?  Where  is  Yussuf  ?"  he 
asked  anxiously. 

"  Yussuf  will  come  all  right — he  can't  keep  up  with  Mazeppa, 
and  he's  simply  loaded  up  with  things  for  the  poor  people  here." 

"  I  entreat  you,  let  me  escort  you  back  to  Stradovo.  It  is 
not  courage  to  ride  out  here  alone  at  such  a  time — it  is  mad- 
ness." His  eyes  rested  on  her  with  an  anxiety  which  matched 
the  tone  and  tenor  of  his  words.  Katya  felt  a  little  thrill 
of  pleasure. 

"  Very  well,  George,  we  can  ride  back  together." 

Katya  brushed  her  hair  back  from  her  forehead.  She 
seemed  to  waft  away  with  the  same  movement  all  the  late 
anxiety  from  her  mind. 

"  Be  of  good  courage,  my  children,"  she  said  in  Servian  to 
the  expectant  group  about  her.  "  It  may  not  be  true,  after 
all,  that  the  Albanians  are  coming.  Yussuf  will  be  here 
directly  with  some  little  presents;  divide  them  among  your- 
selves, and  tell  him  that  the  English  Consul  and  I  ride  back 
to  the  city  by  the  Mukovo  road." 

She  gathered  up  her  reins.  The  crowd  parted  to  let  her 
through.  But  there  was  no  murmur  of  homage  to  the 
daughter  of  the  ancient  Servian  Princes. 

Katya  turned  in  her  saddle  to  wave  farewell.  "  Good- 
bye, my  children,  I  will  come  again  !" 

The  Muktar  shook  his  grey  head  sorrowfully.  His  eyes 
and  those  of  all  looked  enmity  at  the  horseman  who  had  taken 
their  Princess  from  them  in  their  direst  need. 

14 


210  KATYA 

"  George,"  said  Katya  thoughtfully,  as  they  rode  at  a  foot 
pace  down  the  steep  descent  to  Mukovo,  "  I  believe  you  would 
find  me  wherever  I  might  be  in  all  the  world." 

"  I  hope  so." 

"  And  yet  you  never  came  to  Priluka." 

"  You  did  not  give  me  time.  You  are  so  quick;  we  others 
are  more  slow  to  act,  and  perhaps  more  slow  to  change." 

"  Come  with  us  to  Priluka  next  summer,  when  Niki  gets 
his  leave.  He  has  well  deserved  it,  poor  fellow.  For  three 
years  he  has  not  been  outside  the  place." 

"  I  don't  think  I  will,  thanks." 

"  Why  ever  not  ?    And  you  say  it  so  seriously.  ..." 

"  Because  I  do  not  wish  to  lose  the  right  I  have  of  seeing 
you." 

"  Would  you  lose  that  by  coming  to  my  home  ?" 

"  Yes;  your  husband  would  never  forgive  me.  Our  rela- 
tions— his  and  mine,  I  mean — have  changed  here  in  Stradovo, 
though  I  cannot  see  that  I  have  anything  to  reproach  myself 
with.  I  ought,  perhaps,  to  apply  for  a  transfer.  To  do  so 
now  would  look  like  cowardice,  otherwise  I  would  ask  the 
Ambassador  to  use  his  influence  .  . ." 

"  And  I,  George — you  do  not  ask  what  I  might  wish  ?" 

"  I  think  you  know  that  you  have  ruled  my  life  from  the 
day  I  saw  you,  seventeen  years  ago." 

"  You  are  faithful  friends,  you  Englishmen."  She  reached 
him  a  hand.  He  pressed  it  warmly.  A  moment  after  she 
added,  half  to  herself,  "Nobody  calls  me  'petite  Rilinski'  now." 

"  Are  you  so  sure  of  that  ?  Your  friend  v.  Eichwald  might 
feel  tempted,  when  he  talks  with  Halim  Pasha  of  what  he 
calls  your  '  agitation  '  among  the  Servian  peasants.  ..." 

"  Have  you  ever  heard  him  call  me  so  ?" 

"  Never.  But  I  know  that  he  has  made  complaint  about 
your  expeditions  out  here — both  to  Halim  Pasha  and  to  his 
own  Ambassador  in  Constantinople." 

"  Thanks.  That  I  knew  already.  He  has  spoken  to  Niki 
about  it  too,  and  old  Korenof  is  wild  with  me  again.  I  don't 
care.  I  shall  do  what  I  like.  Trot !" 

Mazeppa  soon  took  the  lead,  and  left  the  others  far  behind. 
Katya  turned  in  her  saddle,  waving  her  whip  to  Farringham, 
and. shouting:  "  Come  along  !" 

He  spurred  his  horse  to  a  gallop.     But  as  soon  as  Katya 


HORSEMANSHIP— AND  OTHER  MATTERS      211 

heard  the  sound  of  hoofs  approaching,  she  gathered  up  her 
reins,  touched  Mazeppa's  neck  with  her  whip,  and  pressed 
a  spurred  heel  lightly  against  the  horse's  flank. 

The  thoroughbred  flew  like  a  grey-winged  arrow  over  the 
road  beside  the  blue  lake  where  diving  pelicans  waked  ripples, 
and  wild  swans  drew  light  wave-lines  with  their  wings.  The 
pair  dashed  forward,  over  hard  rock  and  loose,  rolling  stones, 
that  rattled  beneath  the  swift  hoofs.  The  warm,  still  air 
of  June  became  a  cooling  breeze  that  played  refreshingly 
about  the  woman's  hair  and  cheeks.  She  leaned  back  in 
the  saddle,  giving  Mazeppa  the  rein,  and  let  her  whip  flick 
past  the  beast's  excited  eyes. 

Up  in  the  sloping  fields  above  the  blue  Mukovo,  Servian 
peasants  ceased  their  work,  and  shaded  eyes  to  watch  the 
Princess  riding  furiously  in  her  wild  play  with  the  man  who 
strove  to  follow.  Her  cry  gave  echo  among  the  rocks  about 
the  Sea  of  Pain.  With  hands  raised  high  above  her  head 
she  held  her  whip  as  a  Cossack  holds  his  lance  when  he  waves 
triumphant  greeting  to  his  love. 

Farringham  galloped  after  her  as  fast  as  his  horse  could 
go;  but  the  distance  between  them  only  increased.  He  called 
to  her  to  halt  and  wait.  She  did  not  hear.  She  seemed  to 
be  fleeing  from  him  with  a  purpose — to  distance  him  until 
he  could  not  follow. 

But  as  the  minarets  of  Stradovo  showed  against  the  cloud- 
less sky,  Katya  took  up  her  reins  again,  halted  her  horse, 
and  patted  the  shining  neck  with  its  swelling  veins.  Then, 
turning,  she  glanced  with  a  triumphant  smile  at  the  man  who 
strove  to  follow  and  find  her  where  she  might  be  in  all  the 
world. 

"  George,  you  should  come  to  Ukraine,  and  let  us  teach 
you  how  to  ride." 

When  he  came  up,  they  moved  off  together  at  a  walk,  his 
eyes  resting  upon  her  all  the  time. 

"  I  wonder,"  he  said  at  last,  "  how  many  men  have  found 
their  fate  in  you  ?" 

She  laughed  gleefully,  and  answered  in  her  most  mischievous 
tone:  "  Shall  we  say  as  the  sands  of  the  sea — as  the  stars  in 
the  sky  ?" 

"  You  should  not  make  it  matter  for  a  jest.  I  know  that 
for  me  at  least  it  is  earnest." 


212  KATYA 

"  Oh,  please  don't  lecture  me  !  Niki  has  done  nothing  else 
this  last  year.  I  wish  we  were  well  out  of  Stradovo.  It  is 
beginning  to  be  unbearable." 

"  Since  I  came  ?" 

"  No,  George,  I  didn't  mean  that.  We're  all  so  glad  to 
have  you  here." 

He  smiled  bitterly.  "  You  see  nothing  but  what  you  please 
to  see,"  he  said.  "  Your  husband  is  longing  for  an  oppor- 
tunity to  break  off  all  relations  with  me — get  rid  of  me.  And 
little  Anna  hates  me  with  all  her  child's  heart." 

"  Anna  ?  What  an  idea  !  Really,  Farringham,  you  are 
growing  hysterical." 

"  I  have  done  all  I  could  to  make  friends  with  the  child, 
but  she  positively  thrusts  me  away.  She  will  scarcely  give 
me  her  hand  when  I  come  to  call.  I  have  heard  her  speak 
excellent  English  with  Miss  Warden ;  whenever  I  address  her, 
she  answers  abruptly  in  French.  I  bring  her  little  presents; 
she  murmurs  '  Merci,  monsieur,'  and  lays  them  aside.  Next 
day  I  find  them  in  the  hands  of  half-naked  children  playing 
on  the  banks  of  the  Badiska." 

"  But  that  is  really  horribly  naughty  of  her.  I  must  put 
a  stop  to  this." 

"  I  beg  you  to  do  nothing  in  the  matter.  Leave  Anna  to 
herself,  and  let  me  try  .  .  .  while  there  is  time  ..." 

"  But  Sergei — I  know  he  ..." 

"  That  is  another  thing.  The  boy  is  of  your  blood.  The 
people  here  were  right  when  they  called  him  '  little  Prince 
Rilinski.'  " 

"  To  hear  you  talk  like  that,  George,  one  would  think  that 
my  house  was  the  scene  of  a  drama— divided  against  itself. 
I  can't  help  saying  it — you  are  horribly  sentimental,  and  you 
imagine  all  sorts  of  things  which  have  not  the  slightest 
foundation  in  reality." 

"  I  know  what  I  know,  and  you  are  wrong  if  you  believe 
that  it  is  for  myself  I  am  afraid." 

"  Is  it,  then,  on  my  account  ?" 

"  Yes." 

"  Pooh !"  She  laughed  contemptuously.  All  the  same, 
she  drew  her  brows  together,  and  stared  absently  before 
her. 

"  If  only  I  could  find  a  reasonable  excuse  to  get  away  from 


HORSEMANSHIP— AND  OTHER  MATTERS      213 

here,"  went  on  Farringham.  "  But  it  is  not  easy  to  manage 
it.  My  uncle's  influence  is  not  so  great,  and  he  was  far  from 
pleased  when  I  applied  for  Stradovo.  Moreover,  it  would 
seem  as  if  one  were  afraid,  to  leave  just  now,  when  things 
are  looking  dangerous." 

"  Stay,  George."     She  gave  him  her  hand  once  more. 

"  I  would  stay  by  you  always  if  I  could.  You  must  know 
that." 

She  sent  him  a  grateful  glance.  "  I  know  that  I  can  trust 
you,  my  English  knight." 

"  Trust  me  you  can,  whatever  happens  in  your  life  or 
mine." 

Yussuf  had  overtaken  them  now,  and  was  riding  behind, 
with  Farringham's  kavass.  The  hoofs  of  the  four  horses 
flung  up  a  flour-white  cloud  of  dust  as  they  rode  through  the 
streets  of  Stradovo. 

It  was  a  weekday,  but  on  every  side  they  found  barred 
doors  and  shuttered  windows.  Not  a  living  soul  was  to  be 
seen.  Stradovo  seemed  forsaken — dead. 

After  a  while  a  patrol  appeared,  entering  the  main  street 
from  an  alley.  The  soldiers  hurried  up  towards  the  four. 

"  What  does  this  mean  ?"  whispered  Katya  anxiously. 
"  Yussuf,"  she  went  on,  turning  to  the  kavass,  "  ask  the 
officer  in  charge  what  is  the  matter." 

They  reined  in.  The  soldiers  surrounded  them.  Yussuf 
exchanged  a  few  words  with  the  officer  of  the  patrol,  and 
turned  with  visible  emotion  to  report. 

"  The  town  is  under  martial  law — an  hour  since  ..." 

Katya  translated  into  French,  breathlessly,  and  with 
heaving  breast.  Farringham  strove  to  follow  Yussuf's 
Russian,  too  impatient  to  wait  for  Katya  to  interpret. 

"  Two  Servian  peasants  and  a  Bulgarian  merchant  have 
been  murdered  in  the  bazar,  after  an  altercation  with  some 
armed  Mohammedans.  Meetings  are  being  held  in  the 
mosques.  The  Albanians  have  fired  on  the  Turkish  outposts. 
The  officer  here  requests  Your  Highness  to  return  at  once  to 
the  Consulate.  Halim  Pasha  has  issued  orders  that  none 
may  leave  their  houses  before  sunrise  to-morrow  ..." 

"  But  what  about  the  Mohammedans  who  are  holding 
meetings  ?" 

Yussuf  translated  the  question. 


214  KATYA 

"  The  Mohammedans  will  be  escorted  to  their  homes  by 
troops.  Halim  Pasha  is  responsible  for  the  public  safety." 

"  And  what  does  the  Russian  Consul  say  ?"  asked  Katya 
proudly.  "  Does  he  submit  to  being  confined  to  his  house 
by  Halim  Pasha's  order  ?" 

Farringham  could  not  understand  what  she  was  saying, 
but  put  in  an  observation  to  the  effect  that  it  was  fruitless 
to  prolong  discussion  with  a  subordinate  officer,  who  was  only 
carrying  out  orders  received. 

"  I  want  to  know  if  Halim  Pasha  has  dared  to  issue  orders 
to  the  Consuls.  Surely  that  concerns  you  also  ?" 

"  Of  course.     But  here  in  the  streets  is  hardly  ..." 

Yussuf  translated  the  officer's  reply.  "  No  exceptions  have 
been  made,  Your  Highness.  The  officer's  orders  are  to  see 
that  none  enter  or  leave  the  town  without  a  pass  from  Halim 
Pasha.  Any  persons  encountered  in  the  street  are  to  be 
escorted  to  their  residence  by  the  patrol.  The  officer  requests 
Your  Highness  to  proceed  by  the  shortest  way  to  the  Con- 
sulate. He  will  escort  you  first,  and  then  the  British  Consul . . ." 

"  Tell  him  I  ride  what  road  I  will,  and  do  not  desire  his 
escort." 

"  I  beg  you,"  interposed  Farringham  anxiously,  "  let  us 
make  an  end  of  this  discussion." 

"  The  officer  regrets  that  his  orders  do  not  permit  him  to 
act  otherwise  than  as  he  has  said." 

While  Yussuf  was  speaking,  a  soldier  caught  Mazeppa's 
bridle. 

"  Farringham,  you  may  submit  to  this  if  you  like — I  will 
not  !"  Katya  raised  her  whip,  and  would  have  struck  the 
soldier  had  not  Farringham  swiftly  parried  with  his  own 
kurbash.  There  was  a  murmur  among  the  troops.  The 
officer  took  a  step  forward,  and  laid  one  hand  on  his  sword-hilt. 

Farringham  called  up  his  kavass. 

"  Tell  him  to  call  off  his  men  at  once.  We  have  no  objec- 
tion to  the  patrol  following  us  at  a  distance,  but  if  anyone 
lays  hand  on  Madame  Karatayef's  horse  or  mine,  I  shall 
immediately  report  to  Halim  Pasha." 

"  The  officer  asks  if  Your  Excellency  will  answer  for  the 
lady's  immediate  return  to  the  Russian  Consulate  ?" 

"  Tell  him  he  can  follow  us  if  he  wishes,  but  that  we  shall 
ride  where  we  please." 


HORSEMANSHIP— AND  OTHER  MATTERS      215 

The  riders  moved  forward,  the  patrol  following  in  two  lines, 
one  on  either  side  of  the  street.  The  town  was  silent  as  the 
grave:  the  thick  dust  deadened  the  sound  of  the  horses' 
hoofs.  Now  and  then  the  officer's  sword  rang  against  a  stone; 
the  men  cast' angry  glances  at  Katya. 

"  Farringham,  this  is  humiliating,"  she  said  with  a  frown. 
"  Niki  would  never  have  put  up  with  such  treatment  as  you 
have  allowed  these  men  to  offer  us  both." 

"  Believe  me,  you  are  mistaken.  I  hope  to  have  been  the 
means  of  preventing  misfortune  both  to  you  yourself  and 
your  husband." 

"  Strange  how  concerned  you  are  for  his  welfare !"  Katya 
spoke  contemptuously. 

"  For  once,  I  think  Karatayef  will  thank  me,"  answered 
Farringham  quietly. 

"  I  say  no  I  You  do  not  know  the  Russian  Consul  in 
Stradovo  !" 

They  rode  on  in  silence,  side  by  side.  A  little  distance 
ahead  was  the  side  street  through  which  they  must  pass  to 
reach  the  Russian  Consulate  on  the  river  bank.  Farringham 
waited  anxiously  to  see  what  Katya  would  do  when  they 
reached  it. 

Suddenly  a  noise  of  shouting  reached  them.  The  riders 
and  the  patrol  halted  involuntarily  to  listen.  The  soldiers 
looked  to  their  arms. 

"  Open  !  Open  1  Take  down  your  shutters  and  go  about 
your  work  in  safety.  I  promise  you  no  harm  shall  come  to 
you — I,  the  Russian  Consul !" 

"  Niki !  Hurrah,  it  is  Niki !"  Katya  spurred  her  horse 
forward,  and  turned  down  the  side  street  from  whence  the 
cries  came.  Farringham  and  the  kavasses  followed.  The 
soldiers  looked  hesitatingly  after  and  glanced  at  their  leader. 
"  Double  !"  shouted  the  officer,  and  the  patrol  dashed  after 
the  galloping  riders.  The  whole  was  a  matter  of  seconds. 

Consul  Karatayef  walked  alone  through  the  shut  and  silent 
town,  a  kavass  in  front,  another  behind.  He  was  in  uniform, 
but  unarmed,  save  for  his  little  "  nagaika  " — the  short-handled 
Russian  whip  with  its  long  thick  lash.  The  kavass  in  front 
called  ceaselessly  in  a  high,  clear  voice  :  "  Open,  open  ! 
The  Russian  Consul  gives  you  safety.  Open,  and  go  about 
your  work  !" 


216  KATYA 

Katya  sprang  from  her  horse  and  flung  the  reins  to  Yussuf . 
Then,  taking  the  fall  of  her  habit  over  her  arm,  she  ran  up 
to  her  husband,  calling  to  him  ere  she  reached  him. 

"  Bravo,  Niki,  bravo  !    Let  me  come  with  you  !" 

His  face  lit  with  a  quick  smile  that  vanished,  however,  as 
soon  as  he  caught  sight  of  Farringham  in  Katya's  train. 

The  Turkish  officer  came  up,  breathless,  and  saluting  Consul 
Karatayef,  inquired  how  the  latter's  present  action  was  to 
be  understood  in  view  of  Halim  Pasha's  order. 

"  It  is  not  my  business  to  give  you  explanations,  sir.  I  must 
refer  you  to  your  superior  officer,"  answered  Niki  brusquely. 

"  My  orders  admit  of  no  misunderstanding,"  returned  the 
other.  "  If  you  will  not  return  to  the  Consulate  of  your  own 
free  will,  I  have  no  alternative  but  to  compel." 

"  Are  you  mad,  sir  ?  You  do  not  appear  to  know  to  whom 
you  are  speaking !" 

Karatayef  raised  his  whip  with  an  involuntary  movement, 
letting  it  fall  again  immediately.  The  two  kavasses  drew 
up  on  either  side  of  him,  their  hands  on  their  revolvers. 
Katya  took  his  arm. 

The  soldiers  closed  round  their  commander.  At  the  same 
time  other  patrols  began  to  appear,  and  approached  the 
group  which  hid  the  Russian  Consul  and  his  wife,  while 
Farringham  and  his  kavass,  still  mounted,  were  visible  at 
a  distance. 

The  Turkish  subaltern  looked  about  him,  seeking  an  officer 
of  higher  rank  on  whom  he  might  fall  back  for  support.  The 
newly  arrived  patrols  were,  however,  commanded  by  non- 
commissioned officers.  Here  and  there  along  the  street 
through  which  Karatayef  had  come,  windows  were  being 
thrown  open  and  shutters  taken  down. 

The  officer  found  his  voice  at  last. 

"  I  am  aware,  sir,  that  you  are  the  Russian  Consul,  but  you 
are  not  my  superior  officer,  and  I  cannot  consent  to  take 
orders  from  you !" 

"  Do  you  expect  me  to  obey  yours  ?" 

"  I  am  acting  according  to  the  General's  instructions." 

"  Then  you  had  better  have  those  instructions  amended 
before  it  is  too  late." 

Katya  pressed  her  husband's  arm.  "  Come,  Niki,  let  us 
go  on.  We  shall  see  if  these  scoundrels  dare  to  touch  us  1" 


HORSEMANSHIP— AND  OTHER  MATTERS      217 

At  the  same  moment,  Farringham,  realizing  her  intention, 
sprang  from  his  horse  and  called  up  his  kavass. 

"  Excuse  me,  Karatayef — a  moment.  I  know  this  doesn't 
concern  me  ..." 

"  Not  in  the  least,"  broke  in  Niki  coldly.  "  You  can 
return  to  your  Consulate — under  escort " — he  waved  a 
scornful  hand — "  if  you  are  afraid." 

"  There  are  more  ways  than  one  of  showing  courage, 
Karatayef.  You  are  risking  more  lives  than  your  own  at  this 
moment.  I  pass  over  your  last  words,  and  beg  you  to  let 
me  make  an  end  of  this  painful  scene." 

"  I  do  not  need  your  assistance,  thank  you,  either  here  or 
elsewhere." 

"  Niki,  remember  you  are  not  alone."  Katya  withdrew 
her  arm  from  his.  It  was  as  though  she  suddenly  took  sides 
against  him. 

"  Mr.  Farringham  will  perhaps  escort  you  home — you  are 
generally  glad  of  his  company."  Karatayef  spoke  calmly, 
but  the  hand  that  held  the  whip  trembled  slightly. 

Katya's  eyes  blazed  with  anger  and  defiance.  She  drew 
herself  up  and  turned  to  Farringham. 

"  Give  me  your  arm,  George;  you  will  see  me  home  ?" 

Farringham  bowed.  "  I  am  honoured,"  he  said.  "  One 
moment;  I  have  a  word  to  say  to  the  officer  here.  Tell  him," 
he  went  on,  turning  to  his  kavass,  "  that  the  British  Consul 
takes  the  full  responsibility  for  his  neglecting  to  carry  out 
the  General's  orders.  As  soon  as  I  have  escorted  Her  High- 
ness to  the  Russian  Consulate,  I  will  call  upon  Halim  Pasha 
in  person.  Let  the  soldiers  make  way  for  the  Russian  Consul 
and  myself." 

He  gave  Katya  his  arm,  and  bowed  stiffly  to  Karatayef. 
The  officer  gave  an  order,  and  the  patrol  divided  to  let  them 
pass.  Niki's  eyes  followed  his  wife,  who  walked  steadily  on 
without  turning.  He  felt  the  blood  rushing  to  his  heart. 
For  a  moment  it  seemed  as  if  he  could  not  keep  back  the  cry 
of  "  Katya  !"  that  pressed  to  his  lips.  With  a  violent  effort 
he  recalled  himself  to  present  realities.  Lifting  his  whip,  he 
gave  the  short,  sharp  order:  "  Forward  !" 

With  bowed  head,  and  sick  at  heart,  Niki  Karatayef  pursued 
his  lonely  way  through  the  deserted  streets,  the  kavass  before 
him  calling  as  before : 


2i8  KATYA 

"  Open  !  The  Russian  Consul  answers  for  your  safety. 
Open,  and  to  your  work  !" 

Katya  and  Farringham  walked  silently,  side  by  side,  in  the 
opposite  direction.  As  they  neared  the  fortified  gateway  of 
the  Consulate,  Katya  glanced  at  her  companion. 

"  We  were  in  the  wrong,  perhaps,  after  all,"  she  said. 
Her  voice  was  dull  and  tired. 

"  I,  perhaps.    Not  you." 

"  And  why  you  ?" 

"  Because  I  knew  that  I  was  defending  you  not  only  against 
the  insolence  of  the  men,  but  against  your  husband  himself. 
And  that  Karata)'ef  will  never  forgive  me." 

"  That  means  it  is  all  over,  then — with  you  and  ourselves 
here  ?" 

"  Yes.  For  your  sake  I  could  forget  his  insult  to  myself, 
but  I  cannot  remain  on  terms  of  intimacy  with  your  husband 
after  what  has  passed.  If  he  calls  me  to  account  for  what 
I  have  done,  I  shall  be  ready  to  meet  him." 

"  No,  not  that !  Oh,  how  stupid  men  are  I"  He  shrugged 
his  shoulders,  and  she  added,  with  an  impatient  movement: 
"  And  slow,  George,  miserably  slow  !  Never  one  of  you  all 
that  really  understood  me." 

"  It  may  be  so;  but  perhaps  it  has  not  always  been  the 
men  who  were  in  fault." 

"  Yes,  it  is.  Always  you  ask  for  explanations,  long  as  a 
book.  None  of  you  ever  feel  what  is  in  my  heart — not  till 
long  after.  And  now  both  you  and  Niki  have  made  me 
miserable  .  .  .  even  the  peasants  out  by  Mukovo  did  not  salute 
me  as  they  used.  .  .  .  Oh,  it  is  horrible  here  in  this  place  ! 
I  can't  bear  it  any  longer  !  I  will  go  back  to  Priluka — the 
sooner  the  better." 

Farringham  looked  long  at  her,  "  Do  not  forget,"  he  said, 
and  there  was  a  melancholy  of  farewell  in  his  voice  ;  "do 
not  forget  that  you  may  trust  me,  whatever  happens  in  your 
life  or  mine.  I  love  you.  But  in  my  inmost  heart  I  think 
I  fear  you." 

"  You  also  ?  Oh,  what  can  it  be  in  me  that  makes  men 
fear  ?" 

"  Ask  of  your  husband — of  yourself,  when  you  are  alone. 
I  cannot  answer  you — not  yet.  Perhaps  one  day,  if  we 
meet.  ...  I  must  go  now."  He  drew  himself  up.  "  Halim 


THE  RUSSIAN  CONSUL'S  LAST  REPORT      219 

Pasha  expects  me.  Good-bye,  Katya,  remember  me  a  little 
sometimes." 

He  kissed  her  hand  and  moved  rapidly  away.  Katya 
stood  a  moment  looking  after  him. 

Then,  lifting  her  hand  wearily  to  her  head,  she  sighed,  and 
turned.  The  heavy  door  of  the  Consulate  fell  to  with  a  clang. 


CHAPTER  VI 

THE   RUSSIAN  CONSUL  WRITES  HIS  LAST  REPORT 

CONSUL  KARATAYEF  and  his  wife  sat  at  dinner  with  the 
children.  Anna  was  quick  to  perceive  that  her  father  and 
mother  were  troubled,  and  guarded  in  their  manner  towards 
each  other.  Miss  Warden  construed  the  atmosphere  of 
depression  about  the  household  as  due  to  the  news  of  the 
Albanians'  advance.  Little  Sergei  felt  himself  neglected. 
His  tutor  was  not  at  table  that  day,  and  he  could  not  under- 
stand why  his  father  was  not  as  kindly  and  interested  as 
usual. 

"  Papa,  you've  no  idea  how  splendidly  my  new  kites  fly: 
the  ones  Uncle  George  gave  me.  I  flew  all  three  of  them  at 
once  to-day,  and  they  went  up  ever  so  much  higher  than  the 
house." 

"  Eat  your  dinner,  Sergei,  and  do  not  talk  so  much,"  said 
Katya. 

A  few  moments  later,  however,  the  boy  began  again : 

"  Papa,  Uncle  George  says  Mazeppa  is  the  finest  horse  he 
has  ever  seen,  and  that  mama  rides  ..." 

"  Be  quiet,  Sergei !     Am  I  to  send  you  from  the  table  ?" 

"  Papa,"  began  Anna,  "  how  far  away  are  the  Albanians 
now  ?" 

"  Ten  or  twelve  versts,  dear,  as  far  as  we  know." 

"  Are  there  very  many  of  them  ?" 

"  I  don't  know  how  many  there  are.  But  you  need  not 
be  afraid.  There  are  troops  enough,  at  any  rate,  to  prevent 
their  entering  the  town." 

Miss  Warden  asked  if  it  were  true  that  the  town  had  been 
placed  under  martial  law. 

"  Yes,"  answered  the  Consul.     "  I  was  officially  informed 


220  KATYA 

this  afternoon.  A  very  natural  precaution  when  an  attack 
is  expected  from  without.  Moreover,  the  General  is  acting 
at  the  express  injunction  of  Hassan  Fehmi  Pasha.  He  is  in 
Skoplie  at  present.  But  it  is  unpardonable  weakness  on  the 
part  of  Halim  Pasha  to  allow  the  Mohammedans  to  hold 
meetings  in  their  mosques,  while  the  Christian  artisans  and 
tradesmen  are  shut  up  in  their  houses  as  though  it  were  they 
who  were  responsible  for  the  murders  of  this  morning." 

"  Was  that  why  you  went  through  the  town  to-day,  Niki  ?" 
asked  Katya. 

"  Yes,"  answered  Niki  curtly,  without  looking  at  her. 

"  But  did  not  Halim  Pasha  know  what  you  were  doing  ?" 

"  I  sent  a  messenger  to  tell  him  of  my  intention  when  I 
started  out." 

"  Have  you  heard  from  him  since  ?" 

"  Not  a  word." 

"  And  no  one  stopped  you,  after  we — after  I  left  you  ?" 

"  Yes,  several  times." 

"  What  happened  ?    Tell  me  about  it,  Niki." 

"  There  is  nothing  to  tell.    I  carried  out  my  intention." 

"  But  the  patrols— the  Turkish  officers  ?" 

"  Some  went  on  their  way  without  further  trouble,  as  soon 
as  they  heard  that  I  had  acquainted  Halim  Pasha  of  my 
movement.  Others  tried  to  threaten.  I  had  my  whip." 

"  Niki — you  did  not  use  it  ?"  There  was  a  note  of  fear  in 
Katya' s  voice. 

"  Only  once.  A  soldier  laid  his  hand  on  my  arm.  I  took 
his  name  and  the  number  of  the  patrol.  No.  9,  Abbas." 

Anna  began  to  cry  quietly. 

"  What  is  the  matter,  child  ?  You  see  I  am  here  again, 
safe  and  unharmed." 

"  But  for  Heaven's  sake,  tell  us  what  happened,  Niki !  It 
is  horrible  for  us  all  not  to  know." 

"  I  ought  not  to  have  said  anything  about  it  at  all.  The 
whole  thing  is  of  no  importance.  The  man  caught  hold  of 
my  arm,  thinking  I  was  going  to  strike  the  officer  commanding 
the  patrol,  which  I  had  no  intention  of  doing.  The  moment 
he  touched  me  I  cut  him  over  the  shoulders  with  my  whip  ..." 

Katya  nodded.  "  I  see.  I  should  have  done  the  same 
myself." 

"  The  fellow  never  made  a  sound,  but  stood  there  staring 


THE  RUSSIAN  CONSUL'S  LAST  REPORT       221 

at  me.  His  astonishment  was  almost  comical  to  see.  The 
officer — a  sergeant — didn't  quite  like  the  position,  and  drew 
off  his  men,  but  not  until  I  had  taken  his  number." 

"  And  what  do  you  intend  to  do  about  it  ?" 

"  Nothing  at  all.  Friend  Abbas  will  know  better  another 
time." 

There  was  silence  for  a  moment ;  then  suddenly  little  Sergei 
broke  in : 

"  Papa,  can  Uncle  George  beat  the  Turkish  soldiers, 
too  ?" 

Karatayef  struck  the  table  with  his  clenched  fist.  "  Miss 
Warden,"  he  said  angrily,  "  can  you  not  break  the  child  of 
these  intolerable  questions  ?" 

At  this  Sergei  burst  into  tears,  sobbing  noisily  and  without 
restraint. 

"  Miss  Warden  " — Katya's  tone  was  hard — "  will  you  take 
the  children  to  their  rooms  ?  I  see  they  are  not  yet  sufficiently 
grown  up  to  sit  at  table  with  their  parents." 

"  Anna  may  stay  if  she  likes,"  amended  Karatayef  curtly. 

"  No  thank  you,  papa."  Anna  rose  obediently,  and  going 
round  to  her  father,  whispered  in  his  ear:  "  You  will  come 
up  and  say  good-night  to  me,  papa  ?"  Karatayef  nodded, 
and  the  child  left  the  room. 

The  Consul  and  his  wife  finished  their  meal  alone.  Neither 
spoke,  nor  looked  at  the  other,  until  they  rose  from  table. 

"  Katya,"  said  Karatayef  then,  "  I  should  like  to  speak 
to  you,  if  you  have  time." 

"  Certainly,  dear."  She  caught  the  little  tremor  in  her 
own  voice.  "  In  the  Servian  room — if  it  suits  you  ?" 

"  Wherever  you  please." 

"  Very  well.     I  will  tell  them  to  light  the  lamps." 

The  room  in  which  Katya  kept  her  Servian  collection 
looked  out  upon  the  Badiska.  It  was  hung  entirely  with 
the  hard,  stiff  stuffs  which  the  peasants  of  Kossovo  have 
made  for  centuries.  Tables  and  chairs  were  covered  with 
embroidered  work  such  as  is  used  for  the  peasant  costumes 
of  the  country.  The  floor  was  covered  with  long-fleeced, 
brightly  coloured  sheep-skins.  The  lamps,  with  their  great, 
fantastically  patterned  shades,  were  further  darkened  by 
the  heavy  draping  of  walls  and  ceiling.  Up  in  a  corner, 
among  old  Albanian  weapons,  hung  a  sheaf  of  Katya's  riding- 


222  KATYA 

whips,  mounted  in  gold,  silver,  agate,  and  lapis  lazuli — the 
offerings  of  men  from  many  lands. 

Katya  seated  herself  on  a  divan  heavily  piled  with  gold- 
embroidered  cushions,  and  rested  her  head  in  her  hands. 

"  What  is  it,  Niki  ?"  she  said  at  last. 

"  What  I  have  to  say  to  you,  Katya,  is  something  which 
I  ought,  perhaps,  to  have  said  long  ago.  But  I  have  shirked 
it  hitherto.  Perhaps,  also,  I  have  been  foolish  enough  to 
believe  that  you  would  yourself  render  it  unnecessary.  But 
it  must  stop.  I  forbid  you  for  the  future  to  show  yourself 
alone  with  Farringham.  I  shall  call  upon  him  myself  to- 
morrow, and  request  him  to  discontinue  his  visits  to  the 
house  here,  as  well  as  his  meetings  with  you  out  by  Mukovo." 

"  You  forbid  me,  Niki  ?  I  don't  know  how  Farringham 
will  take  what  you  intend  to  say,  but  I  will  not  submit  to 
be  spoken  to  in  such  a  tone.  If  you  wish  me  to  leave  the 
room  .  „  ." 

"  You  will  stay  .where  you  are,  and  hear  what  I  have  to 
say.  I  do  not  complain  of  the  manner  in  which  you  have 
treated  me.  But  it  is  time  you  were  reminded  of  the  fact 
that  you  neglect  our  children,  and  that  you  are  compromising 
your  own  name  and  mine." 

"  Niki,  be  careful !" 

"  The  Ambassador  has  again  received  complaints  about 
you.  I  have  a  letter  from  him  to-day  in  which  he  earnestly 
requests  me  to  put  a  stop  to  the  manner  in  which  my  wife, 
in  company  with  the  representative  of  Great  Britain,  incites 
the  peasants  to  .  .  ." 

"  Oh,  it  is  too  ridiculous  !  Do  you  really  take  any  notice 
of  such  nonsense  ?" 

"  I  am  perfectly  aware  that  Von  Eichwald  and  Halim  Pasha 
are  at  the  bottom  of  it  all.  But  what  can  I  do,  when  I  am 
unable  to  answer,  either  officially  or  privately,  that  the  com- 
plaints are  unfounded  ?  All  Constantinople  knows  of  your 
disgraceful  ..." 

"  Disgraceful !     This  is  going  too  far  !" 

"  I  say  disgraceful.  The  whole  business  is  no  doubt  already 
well  known  in  St.  Petersburg.  Sooner  or  later  it  will  reach 
Miliukin's  ears;  and  for  your  pleasure — to  gratify  a  reckless 
whim — you  leave  your  children  to  the  care  of  servants,  you 
ruin  my  career,  my  whole  life — yes,  and  Farringham's  also. 


I  tell  you,  Katya,  I  am  sometimes  afraid  to  think  what  you 
can  do." 

""  One  might  almost  think  you  hated  me,  Niki."  Her 
voice  was  harsh;  her  great  eyes  followed  every  movement  of 
her  husband  as  he  paced  up  and  down  the  room. 

"  Do  you  think  I  should  suffer  as  I  do  if  I  hated  you, 
Katya  ?  But  what  do  you  care  for  that  ?  Have  you  ever 
so  much  as  thought  if  I  suffered  or  not  ?  Three  years  ago, 
the  night  we  left  Odessa,  you  said  that  you  would  dance  into 
Stradovo,  and  you  have  done  so.  You  have  danced  un- 
troubled, early  and  late,  caring  nothing  what  it  might  cost 
us  all  whose  lives  are  bound  to  yours  here  in  this  place." 

From  the  quay  outside  came  the  sound  of  many  feet  in 
step,  and  a  faint  rattle  of  arms.  Niki  drew  the  curtain  aside 
and  looked  out. 

"  Another  battalion  moving  out  against  the  Albanians," 
he  said.  "  And  it  is  only  a  couple  of  days  since  I  received 
a  threatening  letter  from  the  Bulgarian  revolutionary 
committee  ..." 

"  You  never  told  me,  Niki." 

"  You  had  no  time.  You  were  out  riding  with  Farringham, 
exhibiting  your  Servian  peasants  and  the  homage  of  your 
faithful  subjects — Princess !  Just  as  to-day,  when  the 
Albanians  came  down  to  demand  revenge  on  me.  And  now 
Halim  Pasha's  officers  are  against  me;  the  troops  as  well. 
The  Ambassador  in  Constantinople  regards  me  with  distrust. 
Soon  it  will  be  Miliukin  himself.  And  in  the  face  of  all  this, 
you  choose  to  take  Farringham's  arm,  and  leave  me  .  .  ." 

"  Niki,  you  promised  me  once  that  you  would  never  make 
me  sorry,  never  cause  me  tears." 

He  twitched  a  riding-whip  from  the  trophy  on  the  wall 
and  slashed  with  it  viciously  in  the  air. 

"  Katya,  there  have  been  times  of  late  when  I  have  feared 
myself  more  than  everything  else.  I  have  longed  to  see  you 
in  tears — to  see  you  crushed  with  pain  and  repentance." 

She  rose  and  stood  a  moment,  stiff  and  pale.  "  Niki,"  she 
said  at  last,  "  if  you  strike  me,  I  will  kill  you  !" 

He  laughed  shortly.  "  Little  need,"  he  said  bitterly. 
"  There  are  men  enough  here  who  will  do  that  work  before 
your  bidding." 

They  stood  facing  each  other  in  silence,  breathing  heavily. 


204  KATYA 

"  Niki,"  she  whispered  again,  "  if  you  touch  me  now,  I 
shall  hate  you  for  all  my  life." 

"  You  lie,  Katya,  to  yourself  and  to  me.  You  can  neither 
hate  nor  love  for  all  your  life." 

He  flung  the  whip  away  and  went  on,  speaking  with  an 
intensity  of  emotion  long  repressed.  "  You  have  borne 
children,  but  you  are  barren,  Katya.  You  care  for  Priluka, 
perhaps,  and  its  memories — beyond  that  there  is  not  a  single 
deep  or  lasting  feeling  in  you.  You  are  clever — yes,  clever 
as  few  women  are,  and  you  can  do  great  things,  as  long  as 
they  are  dramatic  and  splendid.  But  your  heart  is  little — 
little  and  poor,  Katya." 

Katya  had  sat  down  again.  Her  head  bowed  beneath  his 
words,  and  now  and  then  she  shivered  slightly. 

"  Five — six  years  more,"  went  on  Niki  Karatayef,  pacing 
up  and  down  in  the  half-dark  of  the  silent  room.  "  Still  time 
to  wreck  the  lives  of  some  few  more — as  Petya  Orloff's  !" 

"  Niki,  Niki,  how  can  you  be  so  cruel  1" 

"  But  when  your  youth  is  gone,  if,  then,  I  am  no  longer 
here,  whom  will  you  find  to  make  a  home  for  you  ?  You 
will  not  always  have  a  mother,  and  Priluka  goes  to  Sasha's 
son.  Sonya  has  made  her  good  and  prudent  choice;  but  you 
are  not  like  Sonya.  What  will  you  do  when  you  are  left  alone  ?" 

She  sprang  up  with  a  little  cry,  and  flung  herself  at  his 
feet,  clinging  to  his  knees,  tearless,  but  shivering  all  over 
as  with  fever. 

"  Niki,"  she  prayed  piteously,  "  strike  me,  Niki — what  you 
will — only  not  those  words,  that  tone  !  You  kill  me,  speak- 
ing so." 

He  lifted  her  gently,  and  stroked  the  hair  back  from  her 
face,  and  kissed  her  eyes. 

"  My  poor  Katya  !  my  poor  child  !" 

She  drew  him  to  the  divan  and  crept  close  to  him  as 
though  seeking  warmth  and  shelter. 

"  Stay  with  me,  Niki;  I  am  so  afraid." 

He  shook  his  head  and  looked  away  from  her,  whispering 
half  to  himself:  "  Too  late  !" 

"  Niki,  you  must  not  go  to  Farringham  to-morrow.  There 
is  no  need:  he  will  not  come  here  any  more."  She  paused  a 
moment,  and  then  went  on :  "  Niki,  let  us  go  away.  Take 
me  away  from  Stradovo,  back  to  Ukraine." 


THE  RUSSIAN  CONSUL'S  LAST  REPORT       225 

He  shook  himself  and  seemed  to  wake.  "It  is  too  late. 
I  cannot  run  away — from  Farringham  or  from  Stradovo." 

"  Only  stay  with  me,  Niki.     It  is  for  you  I  am  afraid." 

The  tears  came  now.  She  hid  her  face  among  the  many 
pillows,  her  body  rocking  with  heavy  sobs. 

He  stroked  her  hair  softly.  "It  is  too  late,"  he  said  again. 
"  Poor  child,  it  is  too  late." 

A  shout  of  command  broke  in  upon  them  from  outside — 
a  sharp,  shrill  order,  set  in  the  sound  of  hoofs  and  sullen 
rumble  of  heavy  wheels.  The  windows  thrilled  in  their 
frames. 

"  What  is  that  ?  Niki,  what  is  it  ?"  Niki  had  sprung  to 
the  window.  Katya  ran  to  him  and  clung  to  his  arm. 

"  Field  artillery,  moving  out  to  Mukovo.  Halim  Pasha 
must  have  had  news  of  the  Albanians'  position  and  plans." 

"  Niki,  do  you  trust  him  ?  Does  he  mean  to  hold  the 
place  ?" 

"  He  must,  and  he  knows  he  must.  Halim  Pasha  hates 
me,  and  more  than  ever  now,  after  to-day.  Nevertheless,  he 
will  guard  my  life  as  his  own,  for  if  I  am  killed  here,  Korenof 
will  assuredly  have  him  shot.  But  I  am  not  going  to  leave 
it  all  to  him.  I  will  ride  out  to  Mukovo  myself  to-morrow 
morning,  and  have  a  look  at  the  position." 

"  Niki,  let  me  go  with  you  !" 

"No,  dear,  it  is  impossible.  Your  place  is  here  with  your 
children,  not  among  Turkish  soldiers  under  arms." 

She  bowed  her  head.  "  You  are  right.  But  do  not  be 
long  away,  Niki.  I  am  so  afraid  !" 

"  My  poor  Katya  !"     He  stroked  her  hair  again. 

"  Do  not  say  that  any  more,  Niki;  and  do  not  say  it  is  all 
too  late  .  .  ."  She  put  her  arms  about  him,  and  crept  close. 
"  Say  you  forgive  me,  Niki." 

"  Katya,  I  have  loved  you  ever  since  I  can  remember." 

"  My  own  strong  Niki  !  Oh,  try  if  you  cannot  trust  me 
again  now  !" 

Consul  Karatayef  called  Yussuf  to  him  in  his  study. 

"  Yussuf,"  he  said,  when  the  kavass  appeared,  "  it  is 
sunrise  about  half-past  four.  As  far  as  I  can  judge  from 
Halim  Pasha's  preparations,  he  is  expecting  an  attack  in 
force  early  to-morrow  morning.  I  am  going  out  to  inspect 

15 


226  KATYA 

the  Turkish  position,  if  possible,  before  the  fighting  begins. 
We  shall  have  to  leave  here  in  time  to  reach  Mukovo  about 
sunrise." 

"  Very  good,  Your  Excellency.  How  many  kavasses  will 
Your  Excellency  have  ?" 

"  Yourself  only,  I  think,  Yussuf.  That  should  be  suffi- 
cient." 

"  If  I  might  suggest  two,  Your  Excellency.  In  case  a 
messenger  should  be  necessary,  for  instance  .  .  ." 

"  True.  We  will  take  Ibrahim  as  well.  I  will  give  orders 
to  the  maids  to  have  some  food  ready  packed  for  one  of  you 
to  carry.  You  will  call  me  in  good  time,  and  the  horses  must 
be  saddled  at  four — not  later." 

"  Very  good,  Your  Excellency." 

"  No  news  from  the  town,  Yussuf  ?    Is  all  quiet  ?" 

"  All  is  quiet,  Your  Excellency." 

"  Thanks.    That  is  all,  then,  till  to-morrow." 

The  table  was  littered  with  papers.  Karatayef's  fingers 
moved  instinctively  to  lay  them  in  order.  His  eyes  fell  upon 
the  last  letter  from  Korenof,  marked  "  Private,"  and  in- 
voluntarily he  commenced  to  read  it  through,  but  laid  it 
down  again  with  a  sigh,  and  locked  it  in  a  drawer.  Thereupon 
he  set  to  work  to  draw  up  his  report  upon  the  events  of  the 
day,  checking  himself,  however,  to  scribble  upon  a  loose 
scrap  of  paper  the  words  "  Patrol  No.  9,  Abbas."  Then  he 
fell  to  again,  his  pen  moving  swiftly  over  the  broad  sheets. 

"  Some  armed  Mohammedans  forced  their  way  into  the 
bazaar,  and  picked  a  quarrel  with  two  unarmed  Servian 
peasants  and  a  Bulgarian  milk-dealer.  .  .  .  Halim  Pasha 
let  these  Mohammedans  swagger  about  the  bazaar,  armed  to 
the  teeth,  while  the  poor  Christian  Slavs  were  not  allowed 
to  carry  so  much  as  a  knife.  .  .  .  The  news  of  the  triple 
murder  spread  quickly  through  the  town.  .  .  ."  Had  Halim 
Pasha  had  the  courage  to  arrest  the  murderers  ?  Kara- 
tayef  noted  down  on  his  slip  of  paper  the  single  word  "  mur- 
derers." The  matter  would  have  to  be  looked  into  at 
once.  .  .  .  "News  reached  me  that  the  Albanians  had  ex- 
changed shots  with  the  Turkish  outposts.  Shortly  after- 
wards, one  of  Halim  Pasha's  aides-de-camp  informed  me 
that  the  town  had  been  declared  under  martial  law.  Against 
this  I  had  no  protest  to  make.  At  the  same  time,  however, 


THE  RUSSIAN  CONSUL'S  LAST  REPORT       227 

I  received  from  private  sources  a  notification  of  the  fact  that 
the  Mohammedans  were  holding  meetings  in  their  mosques, 
while  the  remaining  population  was  confined  behind  closed 
doors,  the  town  being  thus  practically  at  the  mercy  of  the 
Mohammedans.  I  decided  .  .  ." 

The  clear,  level  writing  filled  sheet  after  sheet.  Consul 
Karatayef  wrote  on,  hearing  vaguely  behind  his  thoughts  the 
singing  of  the  lamp  and  the  scratching  of  his  pen.  A  sense 
of  loneliness  began  to  creep  in  upon  him.  He  forced  himself 
to  concentrate  his  mind  upon  his  work.  But  through  the 
heavy  silence  came  voices,  whispering,  warning  voices  — 
from  somewhere  far  off.  .  .  . 

"  At  the  same  moment  I  caught  sight  of  Katya  and  George 
Farringham  ..." 

Nikolai  Karatayef  paused  in  his  work  and  smiled.  "  Katya 
and  George  Farringham  ..."  And  this  was  the  draft  of  his 
official  despatch,  to  be  read  by  Korenof  and  Miliukin.  .  .  . 
He  shook  his  head,  half  pityingly.  "  I  am  getting  beyond 
work,"  he  said  to  himself.  "  It's  time  I  gave  it  up  ...  gave 
it  all  up."  He  leaned  his  head  upon  his  left  hand,  and  com- 
menced to  erase  the  last  sentence  with  slow,  thoughtful  strokes. 
The  strokes  grew  to  curls  and  flourishes.  His  pen  would 
not  leave  the  paper.  His  eyes  saw  vaguely  through  a  dancing 
mist;  the  lines  upon  the  paper  wove  themselves  into  fan- 
tastically intricate  design.  The  lamp  was  singing  like  a  shell 
pressed  close  against  the  ear.  The  pen  played  on  behind 
the  grey  mist.  Out  of  the  wreathed  and  interwoven  lines 
a  name  took  form.  "  Katya,"  he  wrote — and  saw,  and  struck 
it  out.  The  pen  moved  forward  to  a  new  blank  space. 
"  Katya,"  it  wrote  again.  And  for  a  third  time  "  Katya." 
Quickly,  anxiously,  the  pen  harked  back  across  the  words, 
burying  carefully,  like  tell-tale  signs  of  crime,  each  single 
letter  under  heavy  stroke  and  blot.  And  forward  again, 
in  wreathing,  whirling  lines,  until  the  page  was  filled.  He 
turned  the  sheet,  and  with  the  rich  blank  space  before  it  his 
pen  fell  to  its  work  afresh. 

Out  of  the  mist  there  grew  another  word.  "  Sonya,"  he  wrote 
— and  heard,  from  far  away,  as  breathed  through  infinite 
depths,  a  voice  that  whispered  "  Sonya"  .  .  .  whispered  and 
melted  into  the  pale  echo  of  a  little  shuddering  gasp,  heard 
long  ago  in  the  strained,  sunlit  silence  of  a  summer's  day.  .  .  . 


228  KATYA 

The  mist  cleared  from  his  eyes.  He  dropped  his  pen  and 
put  one  hand  to  his  head. 

How  long  this  waking  nightmare  had  lasted  he  did  not 
know.  Still  half-bewildered,  he  glanced  at  his  watch.  It  was 
nearly  midnight. 

"  And  I  promised  little  Anna  .  .  ." 

He  stole  quietly  through  the  house  to  the  child's  room,  and 
opened  the  door  carefully,  not  to  disturb  her  in  case  she  slept. 

"  Is  that  you,  papa  ?" 

"  Yes,  dear.    Were  you  asleep  ?" 

"  No,  papa,  I  was  waiting  for  you." 

He  sat  down  on  the  edge  of  the  bed  and  she  took  his  hand. 

"  Papa,  I  wish  you  and  grandpapa  were  not  so  sorry." 

"There,  there,  child,  do  not  be  afraid;  and  don't  think 
any  more  about  what  I  told  you  at  dinner.  It  was  wrong  of 
me  to  say  anything  about  it." 

"  Papa,  can  the  Albanians  come  into  Stradovo  and  hurt 
you  ?" 

"  No,  dearest,  of  course  not.  I  am  going  out  to-morrow 
morning  long  before  you  are  awake,  to  see  that  the  soldiers 
are  taking  care  of  us  all." 

"  Then  I  can  write  and  tell  grandpapa  to-morrow?" 

"  Yes,  dear,  do.  And  promise  me  not  to  be  afraid  any 
more,  and  not  to  be  anxious  to-morrow  if  I  have  not  come 
back  by  the  time  you  get  up." 

"  Papa,  will  you  say  prayers  with  me  ?" 

"  Indeed  I  will,  dear." 

She  knelt  up  in  bed,  her  small  hands  clasped  about  her 
father's.  Together,  speaking  very  quietly,  they  said  the  little 
simple  prayer  that  every  evening  rises  from  many  a  child's 
heart  in  hope  and  faith,  in  doubt  and  fear. 

"  .  .  .  And  please  take  care  of  father,  for  grandpapa  and 
I  love  him  so  very  much  ..." 

Karatayef  caught  the  child  to  his  breast,  and  pressed  the 
little  trembling  body  against  his  own.  Laying  her  gently 
down,  he  drew  the  coverings  carefully  about  her. 

He  stood  a  moment  in  silence.  Then,  in  the  dark,  he  made 
the  sign  of  the  cross  above  his  child,  and  went. 


THE  BITTER  HARVEST  229 

CHAPTER  VII 

THE   BITTER  HARVEST 

THE  day  was  breaking  as  Consul  Karatayef,  followed  by  his 
two  kavasses,  rode  out  towards  the  valley  by  Mukovo 
Yesero,  through  which  the  Badiska  flows  down  to  Stradovo. 
All  was  cool  and  quiet  in  the  early  dawn.  The  world  seemed 
still  asleep  in  the  lingering  peace  of  the  summer  night. 

"  There  are  horsemen  behind,  Your  Excellency.  They  are 
coming  nearer." 

"  Good.    Let  them  come." 

The  darkness  faded  slowly.  From  bush  and  thicket  came 
the  timid  piping  of  the  first  awakening  birds;  the  little  music 
of  the  river  played  now  near,  now  far,  as  the  riders'  way 
followed  or  left  its  course.  Veils  of  thin  vapour  hung,  half 
mist,  half  cloud,  among  the  higher  hills.  In  the  east  the 
spreading  light  deepened  and  grew  to  tongues  of  flame.  A 
faint,  pale  memory  that  had  been  floating  vaguely  through 
his  mind  took  form  at  last,  and  Niki  heard  again  the  wave 
of  melancholy  song  that  swelled  and  sank  like  waters  of  the 
lake  at  far  Priluka:  "  Hearest  thou  Dniepr  sobbing  in  the 
reeds  ?  .  ,  ." 

"  Turkish  officers,  Your  Excellency." 

"  Good.    Let  them  come." 

The  sun  was  very  near.  Its  straight-flung  beams  spread 
fan  wise  up  into  the  pearl  of  the  middle  heaven,  piercing  the 
mists  that  yet  clung  to  the  night-cooled  slopes,  and  lighting 
the  pine-clad  peaks  that  seemed  to  hover  in  a  glory  of  rose 
above  the  grey,  dank  clouds  of  earth.  .  .  .  There  was  another 
song  from  that  same  evening  at  Priluka  ..."  Sword  and 
saddle,  and  trumpets'  call  ..." 

"  It  is  Halim  Pasha  with  his  staff,  Your  Excellency." 

"  Good.     Let  him  come." 

The  rattle  of  hoofs  was  closer  now.  Karatayef  turned  in 
his  saddle. 

"  Good-morning,  Your  Excellency.  Mornings  are  getting 
cooler  already." 

"  Good-morning,  Monsieur  le  Consul.     You  are  out  early." 

The  two  horsemen  exchanged  a  sharp  glance. 


230  KATYA 

"  When  one  is  being  hunted  like  a  fox,  one  likes  to  have 
a  look  at  the  hunters.  Would  Your  Excellency  not  do  the 
same  ?" 

"  No  one  doubts  your  courage,  Monsieur  le  Consul.  There 
is  no  need  for  you  to  seek  danger  in  order  to  prove  it." 

"  I  thank  Your  Excellency.  A  soldier  as  yourself  knows 
how  to  appreciate  both  courage  and  sense  of  duty." 

"  I  should  hardly  consider  your  morning  ride  in  the  light 
of  a  duty." 

"  Ah,  there  you  make  a  mistake  !" 

"  I  have  not  encountered  any  of  the  other  Consuls  on  my 
way." 

"  Your  Excellency  forgets  that  it  is  I  alone  who  am  the 
fox." 

"  I  should  have  been  more  pleased  to  meet  you,  Monsieur 
le  Consul,  if  you  had  acquainted  me  beforehand  of  your 
intention." 

"  Your  Excellency  was  more  than  usually  busy  yesterday; 
I  myself  also.  I  had  not  even  time  to  inquire  whether  Your 
Excellency  had  secured  the  persons  of  the  murderers  from 
the  bazaar." 

"  It  is  a  doubtful  point  how  far  one  is  justified  in  using  the 
word  'murder'  in  connection  with  that  regrettable  event. 
The  men  were  killed — in  a  brawl." 

"  It  is  perhaps  scarcely  wise  to  pursue  that  question  just 
now.  Have  you  the  murderers  under  lock  and  key  ?" 

"  Not  yet;  but  we  shall  soon." 

"  I  doubt  it." 

"  Indeed  ?    And  why  ?" 

"  Your  Excellency  will  find  it  difficult.  Those  meetings  in 
the  mosques  have  not  been  held  for  nothing." 

Halim  Pasha  was  silent.  After  some  minutes  he  spoke  again. 

"  Your  colleague,  Monsieur  Farringham,  called  upon  me 
yesterday.  There  were  also  one  or  two  other  matters  .  .  .  alto- 
gether, we  have  a  good  deal  of  things  to  talk  over  together, 
Monsieur  Karatayef." 

"  Perfectly  true,  Excellency.  I  am  at  your  service  at  any 
time." 

"  Unfortunately,  my  military  duties  prevent  my  entering 
upon  any  discussion  of  matters  political  at  the  moment ;  but 
some  time  during  the  day,  perhaps,  in  Stradovo  ..." 


THE  BITTER  HARVEST  231 

"  With  pleasure.  At  any  time  convenient  to  Your  Ex- 
cellency. I  hope  soon  to  relieve  you  of  any  inconvenience 
which  my  present  visit  of  inspection  may  cause  you." 

"  I  must  confess  I  fail  to  understand  what  brings  you  here 
at  all." 

"  I  am  anxious  to  see  what  precautions  Your  Excellency 
is  taking  for  my  defence." 

"  I  have  no  objection  to  your  paying  a  visit  to  the 
lines  .  .  ." 

The  Russian  Consul  smiled.     "  Much  obliged,  I  am  sure." 

"  I  will  arrange  for  an  escort  to  show  you  over  the  position. 
It  has  been  considerably  strengthened  since  yesterday.  I 
must  earnestly  request  you,  however,  to  retire  before  the 
commencement  of  hostilities." 

"  Your  Excellency  may  rely  upon  my  discretion.  Being 
a  non-combatant,  I  have  no  wish  to  be  involved  in  the  active 
operations." 

The  party  were  now  approaching  the  centre  of  the  Turkish 
position.  Halim  Pasha  called  up  one  of  his  aides-de-camp 
and  gave  him  an  order.  The  officer  galloped  off,  and  the 
General  proceeded  to  expound  his  plan  of  operations  to 
Karatayef.  The  Albanians  were  not  more  than  three  thou- 
sand strong,  and  had  no  artillery.  In  case  of  an  attack,  the 
advanced  guard  of  the  Turks  would  retire,  and  endeavour  to 
draw  the  enemy  after  them  down  the  valley  of  the  Badiska 
to  a  spot  where  the  sides  closed  in.  The  hills  here  were  occu- 
pied on  either  side  by  Turkish  infantry,  in  excellent  cover,  in 
addition  to  which  the  entrance  and  exit  to  the  pass  could  be 
swept  by  the  guns  already  placed  in  position.  Once  the 
Albanians  could  be  drawn  into  the  trap,  their  position  would 
be  hopeless,  and  negotiations  could  be  commenced. 

"  You  will  understand,  Monsieur  le  Consul,  that  every  en- 
deavour must  be  made  to  avoid  unnecessary  bloodshed.  The 
Albanians  are  faithful  Mussulmans,  and  subjects  of  his 
Imperial  Majesty  the  Sultan.  They  have  allowed  themselves 
to  be  misled.  But  they  are,  after  all,  our  brothers." 

"  I  am  sorry  for  the  Servian  villages  these  brothers  of  yours 
encounter  on  their  way." 

"  Revolt  is  always  revolt,  Monsieur  le  Consul.  Even  in 
your  own  Russia,  civil  war  has  often  demanded  the  sacrifice  of 
innocent  blood." 


232  KATYA 

It  was  Karatayef s  turn  to  be  silent.  A  moment  after, 
Halim  Pasha  went  on : 

"  I  have  given  orders  that  we  are  to  be  received  in  silence. 
I  regret  that  I  am  unable,  under  the  circumstances,  to  show 
you  the  honours  due  to  your  uniform  and  the  country  you 
represent.  But  you  will  understand  my  position.  I  must 
also  request  you  to  keep  as  much  in  the  background  as  possible, 
and,  above  all,  not  to  expose  yourself  to  the  view  of  the 
enemy's  advanced  posts." 

"  I  understand,  and  agree  with  Your  Excellency  entirely." 

"  We,  on  our  part,"  went  on  Halim  Pasha  with  decision, 
"  shall  not  fire  a  shot  until  we  are  actually  attacked.  And 
even  then  we  shall  spare  them  as  much  as  possible.  And 
now  I  think  you  understand  the  situation.  I  have  nothing 
more  to  say.  One  of  my  aides-de-camp  will  conduct  you 
round  the  lines.  I  hope  to  see  you  later  in  Stradovo.  Good- 
morning  !" 

The  General  raised  his  hand  in  salute,  and  rode  off,  followed 
by  his  staff. 

A  moment  later  a  young  officer  came  up  and  saluted. 
Karatayef  dismounted. 

"  If  you  wish  it,  sir,  I  will  tell  off  a  couple  of  men  to  hold 
the  horses,  so  that  your  kavasses  can  accompany  you." 

"  Thanks,  my  man  Ibrahim  will  look  to  the  horses. 
Yussuf,  you  will  come  with  me.  I  am  safe  enough,"  he 
added  with  a  smile,  "  among  my  defenders." 

They  started  on  their  round,  commencing  from  the  hills 
on  the  right  bank  of  the  Badiska,  the  young  officer  explaining 
the  disposition  of  the  defences,  with  the  numbers  of  the 
batteries  and  battalions.  Below  them  in  the  valley  Niki 
caught  sight  of  Halim  Pasha  and  his  staff,  stopping  to  talk 
to  the  troops.  As  the  party  neared  the  western  approach 
to  the  pass,  the  guide  requested  Karatayef  to  move  with 
caution. 

"  The  Albanians  must  come  this  way  if  they  come  at  all. 
Our  advanced  guard  is  down  there,  a  hundred  yards  distant ; 
we  must  take  care  not  to  be  seen  ourselves.  I  should  be  glad 
if  you  would  tell  your  kavass  to  keep  below  the  skyline. 
His  uniform  makes  him  a  conspicuous  figure  in  the  sun- 
light." 

Karatayef  did  as  requested.      "  We  might  go  down  here 


THE  BITTER  HARVEST  233 

and  wade  across.     Those  hills  on  the  other  side  of  the  river 
must  be  quite  close  to  the  Albanians'  advanced  posts." 

"  They  are  just  beyond.     I  am  at  your  service." 

They  clambered  down  through  lines  and  groups  of  Turkish 
infantry  that  lay  scattered  about  the  slope.  Officers  and 
men  saluted  in  silence.  Here  and  there  the  freshly  turned 
up  earth  marked  the  spot  where  a  gun  had  recently  been 
placed  in  position.  They  crossed  the  river  without  difficulty, 
stepping  from  one  to  another  of  the  great  stones  that  filled 
its  bed. 

"  It  is  heavy  going  up  the  hill-side,"  said  the  officer,  when 
they  had  reached  the  opposite  bank.  "  If  you  would  care 
to  rest  a  moment.  .  .  .  We  had  a  difficult  job  to  get  the  guns 
up  last  night.  And  there's  nothing  to  see  but  what  you  have 
already  seen." 

"  Thanks.     I'm  not  tired.     It's  not  far  to  the  top." 

They  began  the  ascent  in  silence.  Here  and  there  the 
Turkish  soldiers  shouldered  arms,  saluting  the  Russian  Consul 
as  he  passed.  As  he  came  farther  up  the  hill,  the  troops 
became  fewer.  Above  him,  at  the  summit  of  the  slope,  the 
men  lay  in  extended  order,  a  single  line,  facing  towards  the 
west,  anxiously  watching  for  the  slightest  movement  below. 
The  silence  was  intense. 

"  I  will  go  up,  I  think,  and  have  a  look  round  from  the 
top." 

"  It  would  be  safer  not,  sir.  To  show  oneself  would  be 
dangerous,  and  crawling  on  all  fours  ..." 

"  Will  scarcely  do  me  any  harm."  Karatayef  handed  his 
whip  to  Yussuf,  and  going  down  on  hands  and  knees,  crawled 
up  to  a  little  hillock  at  the  top  of  the  slope,  where  a  single 
soldier  lay.  As  he  reached  it,  the  man  turned  his  head,  and 
looked  Karatayef  in  the  face. 

"  Patrol  No.  9,  Abbas,"  murmured  the  Consul  to  himself, 
as  one  recollecting  something. 

Neither  spoke.  Karatayef  stared  out  over  the  ground, 
where  the  Albanian  outposts  lay  hidden.  No  sign  of  any 
living  creature  was  to  be  seen.  Cautiously  turning,  he  crept 
back  to  where  his  companions  stood. 

"  We  can  go  back  this  way,  I  suppose  ?" 

"  As  you  wish,  sir." 

The  party  moved  forward,  Karatayef  leading,  the  officer 


234  KATYA 

a  little  behind  and  somewhat  lower  down  the  slope,  and 
Yussuf  in  the  rear,  slashing  at  the  grass  with  his  master's  whip. 

Suddenly  a  shot  crashed  out,  echoing  like  thunder  among 
the  hills.  Nikolai  Karatayef  fell  forward  on  his  face,  his 
body  rolled  helplessly  down  the  slope  until  it  was  checked 
and  held  by  a  patch  of  scrub.  A  broken  line  of  blood  behind 
marked  its  way. 

Yussuf  gave  a  wild  cry,  and  dashed  up  the  slope.  Tearing 
his  revolver  from  his  belt,  he  fired  all  six  chambers  at  a  soldier 
who  was  running  swiftly  down  towards  the  Albanian  lines. 
The  man  stumbled  and  fell.  Yussuf  sprang  down  and  flung 
himself  like  a  wild  beast  upon  his  wounded  prey. 

The  silent  heights  enclosing  the  valley  woke  suddenly  to 
life.  Armed  men  sprang  up  from  cover  on  every  side.  The 
inner  slopes  were  thickly  sown  with  fez-crowned  heads. 

A  rattle  of  musketry  broke  out  somewhere  to  the  west,  and 
shouts  rang  out,  heard  clearly  in  the  still  air  of  the  morning. 
"  El  Padishah  !  Death  to  the  enemies  of  the  Khalif  !" 

A  sharp  word  of  command  was  passed  round  the  lines,  and 
silence  followed ;  the  thousands  that  had  risen  suddenly  from 
the  earth  vanished  as  swiftly,  as  though  swallowed  up.  The 
noise  of  firing  came  nearer. 

Halim  Pasha  came  hurrying  up,  all  breathless,  to  the  spot 
where  the  young  officer  knelt,  supporting  the  blood-splashed 
head  of  Nikolai  Karatayef  in  his  arm. 

"  Is  he  dead  ?" 

The  officer  nodded  without  looking  up. 

A  gold-embroidered  figure  came  down  the  slope,  hauling 
something  behind  him.  It  was  Yussuf,  dragging  with  him 
the  wounded  Abbas,  whose  face  and  hands  were  covered  with 
blood.  At  sight  of  his  master,  the  kavass  flung  down  his 
burden,  and  cast  himself  on  the  ground  beside  the  body, 
sobbing  like  a  wounded  thing,  and  covering  the  paling  hands 
with  kisses. 

"  Water !"  commanded  Halim  Pasha.  "  Where  is  the 
ambulance  ?" 

He  strode  up  to  the  spot  where  Abbas  lay  in  his  blood, 
surrounded  by  a  silent  group  of  soldiers. 

"  Who  are  you  ?"  asked  the  General. 

"  A  witness  to  Allah,  Effendim.    Abbas,  son  of  Hussein." 

"  You  shot  the  Russian  Consul  ?" 


THE  BITTER  HARVEST  235 

"  He  struck  me  yesterday  with  his  whip,  Effendim/' 

"  Do  you  know  that  you  will  be  hanged,  if  you  live  long 
enough  ?" 

"  I  know  it,  Effendim.  I  am  ready  for  the  judgment  of 
Allah." 

Some  soldiers  came  up,  bringing  water.  A  doctor  and 
some  ambulance  orderlies  appeared. 

"  Shot  through  the  brain,  from  behind,"  said  the  doctor, 
after  a  brief  examination.  "  Death  instantaneous." 

"  And  this  man  ?" 

The  doctor  turned  to  the  wounded  man,  feeling  with  swift 
fingers.  "  Three  slight  wounds,  and  one  more  serious — here 
in  the  back,  above  the  hip." 

"  Let  everything  possible  be  done  to  keep  him  alive.  His 
declaration  may  be  of  vital  importance  to  us  all — perhaps  to 
the  whole  country." 

The  General  gave  a  series  of  orders  to  his  aides,  who 
scattered  in  all  directions. 

"  Can  the  man  be  questioned  now  ?" 

"  I  should  not  recommend  it,"  answered  the  doctor. 

"  Can  he  bear  to  be  carried  into  Stradovo  ?" 

"In  an  hour  or  two,  I  hope." 

"  Let  it  be  done  as  soon  as  safely  possible.  Let  me  repeat, 
gentlemen,  this  man's  life  is  valuable.  Consul  Karatayef's 
body  will  be  placed  on  a  bier  and  carried  into  the  Russian 
Consulate,  with  an  escort  of  a  hundred  men.  I  will  ride  on 
in  advance." 

Halim  Pasha  turned  and  went  down  the  slope.  As  he 
mounted  his  horse,  the  officer  in  command  of  the  position 
came  up  and  saluted. 

"  I  am  going  into  Stradovo,  to  the  Russian  Consulate," 
said  the  General,  "  and  shall  probably  not  return.  Send  out 
a  messenger  to  the  Albanians,  and  tell  them  what  has 
happened.  If  they  still  persist  in  attacking,  you  will  conduct 
the  operations  as  arranged,  and  hold  them  shut  up  here. 
But  do  all  you  can  to  bring  them  to  reason.  What  all  their 
thousands  never  could  have  done  has  been  accomplished  by 
a  single  man." 

"  I  will  carry  out  your  orders  to  the  letter,  Effendim." 

"  Keep  me  advised  from  hour  to  hour.  Two  Empires  are 
watching  the  events  in  Stradovo  to-day." 


236  KATYA 

The  General  rode  away.  From  the  west  came  the  rattle 
of  musketry,  and  shouts  of  "El  Padishah  !  Death  to  the 
enemies  of  the  Khalif !" 

The  roads  that  led  from  the  district  about  Mukovo  to  the 
town  were  necked  and  dotted  everywhere  with  little  groups 
of  fugitives  coming  in  from  Servian  villages  now  in  the  hands 
of  the  Albanians.  Men  and  women  carried  bundles  contain- 
ing the  little  they  had  been  able  to  save  of  household  goods; 
many  bore  children  in  their  arms,  or  lent  a  supporting  shoulder 
to  such  as  were  too  ill  or  weak  to  walk  alone.  Others  drove 
flocks  of  sheep  and  goats.  The  sound  of  firing  made  them 
increase  their  pace.  The  narrow  hill  roads  were  in  places 
crowded  with  the  hurrying,  frightened  peasants. 

A  Turkish  orderly  pushed  his  horse  through  a  group  that 
blocked  the  path  along  the  bank  of  the  Badiska.  Now  and 
again  one  or  another  called  to  him  to  ask  if  the  Albanians 
were  advancing.  He  did  not  answer,  but  urged  on  his  foam- 
flecked  beast  with  whip  and  spur.  Reaching  the  town,  he 
galloped  in,  passing  the  Russian  Consulate,  where  the  flag 
was  already  hoisted.  A  few  moments  later  he  dismounted 
at  the  headquarters  of  the  Turkish  administration,  and  was 
at  once  conducted  to  Sayyid  Bey,  to  whom  he  communicated 
Halim  Pasha's  orders.  A  guard  of  honour,  with  flag,  to  be 
posted  on  the  quay  outside  the  Russian  Consulate — guards 
to  be  placed  at  all  the  other  Consulates ;  all  meetings  and  groups 
of  townsfolk,  whether  Mohammedan  or  Christian,  to  be 
instantly  dispersed ;  telegrams  to  be  sent  to  the  Government 
in  Constantinople  reporting  the  unfortunate  death  of  Consul 
Karatayef ;  also  to  the  Inspector-General  of  European  vilayets, 
Hassan  Fehmi  Pasha. 

Katya  was  still  in  bed  when  Jeannette  knocked  at  her  door 
and  anxiously  requested  to  speak  with  her. 

"  What  is  the  matter  ?" 

"  There  is  a  crowd  of  peasants  outside  the  gate,  asking  to 
be  let  in.  They  say  madame  told  them  to  come.  The  kavass 
doesn't  know  what  to  do  with  them." 

"  Has  the  Consul  not  returned  ?  It  must  be  nearly  eight 
o'clock." 

"  No,  madame,  not  yet." 

"  Very  well,  I  will  get  up.    No,  stay  and  help  me  dress." 


THE  BITTER  HARVEST  237 

"  But  about  the  peasants,  madame;  what  am  I  to  say  to 
the  kavass  ?" 

"  Really,  I  don't  know  what  to  say.  How  many  are 
there  ?" 

"  Several  hundred." 

"  And  what  do  they  want  ?" 

"  I  do  not  know,  madame ;  I  cannot  understand  what- they 
say." 

"Tell  them  to  wait  quietly  for  a  moment.  Be  quick!  I 
must  go  down  myself  and  see  what  they  want." 

When  Jeannette  returned  a  minute  or  two  later,  it  was 
with  the  further  news  that  Turkish  troops  were  lining  up  in 
the  street  outside,  and  were  about  to  drive  the  peasants 
away. 

Katya  threw  on  a  morning  wrap  of  white  woollen  stuff,  and 
let  Jeannette  do  her  hair  in  hasty  fashion.  Then,  hurrying 
down,  she  went  through  the  garden  to  the  fortress-like  gate, 
and  ordered  the  kavass  to  open. 

"  What  does  all  this  mean  ?" 

A  word  of  command  rang  out  as  she  appeared.  The 
Turkish  troops  presented  arms.  The  Servian  fugitives 
greeted  her  with  the  salutation  which  their  ancestors  had 
given  to  the  ancient  Princes  of  her  race:  "  Slava,  kneginya. 
Slava  I" 

An  old  man  stepped  forward.  It  was  the  Muktar  of  that 
same  village  which  she  had  visited  with  Farringham  the  day 
before.  Halting  a  little  distance  from  her,  he  bowed  deeply, 
and  said  in  a  tremulous  voice:  "  Princess,  we  are  here,  your 
children,  being  hunted  from  our  homes." 

Katya  covered  her  eyes  a  moment  with  her  hand,  as  though 
seeking  to  shut  out  the  sight  of  this  miserable  ragged  flock 
that  came  to  her  for  shelter  and  protection.  The  hour  was 
come  when  reckoning  must  be  made,  rash  promises  redeemed, 
and  proud  words  weighed  to  prove  their  worth.  As  she  had 
stood  alone  under  the  flowering  acacias  by  the  Sea  of  Pain, 
so  also  here,  beneath  the  flag  that  was  her  country — alone 
with  the  responsibility  of  decision.  And  in  her  heart  she 
called  despairingly  for  Niki,  her  own  strong  Niki,  to  come 
and  aid. 

The  Turkish  officer  inquired  respectfully  if  he  should  dis- 
perse the  crowd.  Hundreds  of  piteously  beseeching  eyes 


238  KATYA 

looked  ceaselessly  at  the  Princess.  The  little  children  were 
whimpering  with  weariness  and  fear. 

"  No,"  said  Katya  firmly,  drawing  herself  up.  "  I  do  not 
know  what  the  Russian  Consul  will  decide  when  he  returns; 
meantime,  let  as  many  of  these  people  as  can  find  room  here 
enter  with  their  belongings.  The  rest  must  seek  the  other 
Consulates.  I  leave  it  to  you,  sir,  to  escort  the  remaining 
fugitives  in  safety  through  the  town." 

As  soon  as  the  peasants  had  understood  what  their  Princess 
had  decreed,  they  pressed  in  towards  the  gate,  and  in  a  few 
minutes  some  two  hundred  souls  had  passed  through.  The 
kavass  closed  the  heavy  gate  with  a  clang. 

The  fugitives  disposed  themselves  on  either  side  the  house, 
in  the  yard  and  on  the  lawns,  seeking  especially  the  shelter 
of  the  outer  walls,  where  they  began  to  unpack  their  belong- 
ings. Katya  gave  orders  for  milk  and  bread  to  be  fetched, 
glasses  and  cups  to  be  distributed.  Tea  and  hot  water  were 
to  be  ready  in  the  kitchen  for  all  who  asked. 

The  two  children  were  sent  for,  with  their  governess  and 
the  Russian  tutor. 

"  We  can  dispense  with  lessons  for  the  present.  There  is 
much  to  do,  and  all  must  help.  I  will  have  no  idle  hands 
about  the  house  to-day." 

There  was  a  sound  of  hoofs  outside  on  the  quay,  followed 
by  a  knocking  at  the  outer  gate. 

"  Niki  I     Hurrah,  there's  papa  come  back  again !" 

The  kavass  opened  the  gate.  Halim  Pasha  rode  in,  followed 
by  an  aide-de-camp.  A  sudden  silence  fell  upon  the  place. 
The  fugitives  looked  with  anxious  eyes  from  the  General  to 
the  Princess. 

"  Madame,"  said  the  General,  bowing  with  the  Oriental 
salutation,  "  a  most  painful  duty  compels  me  to  seek  you 
at  this  hour." 

"  I  am  not  the  Russian  Consul,  Your  Excellency.  As  soon 
as  my  husband  returns  from  his  ride,  he  will  be  ready  to 
receive  you,  and  give  you  any  information  in  his  power." 
She  looked  about  her.  The  eyes  of  the  peasants  were  fixed 
upon  her  in  anxiety  and  admiration. 

"  The  object  of  my  visit  is  of  such  a  nature  that  it  is  impos- 
sible to  speak  of  it  here.  If  madame  will  permit  me  .  .  ." 

"  I  can  scarcely  imagine  that  Your  Excellency  can  have 


THE  BITTER  HARVEST  239 

anything  to  say  to  me  which  cannot  wait  my  husband's 
return." 

"  Madame  " — the  General's  voice  was  low  and  earnest. 
Anna  Nikolaievna  began  to  cry.  "  Madame,  the  news  which 
it  is  my  heavy  duty  .  .  ." 

"  Niki !"  The  word  broke  like  a  shriek  from  Katya's  lips. 
"  My  husband  ?" 

The  General  bowed  his  head.  "  Yes,  madame,  your 
husband." 

"  Come,"  said  Katya  briefly. 

But  the  child  caught  Halim  Pasha  by  his  coat  and 
clamoured  wildly:  "  My  father,  is  he  dead  ?  Tell  me,  is  my 
father  dead  ?" 

"  Little  child  !"  The  General  laid  one  hand  upon  her 
head. 

Katya  turned  towards  him,  her  eyes  burning,  her  face 
ghastly  pale.  "  Is  it  true  ?" 

The  General  bowed. 

Sergei  had  heard  his  sister's  cry,  and  came  running  up  to 
his  mother.  He  caught  her  dress  and  pulled  at  it  as  though 
to  hide  himself,  sobbing  violently  the  while. 

Katya  took  her  children  by  the  hand.  Drawing  herself 
up,  she  bade  Halim  Pasha  follow  her  into  the  house.  The 
peasants  moved  aside  to  let  her  pass,  looking  at  her  with  fear 
and  sorrow  in  their  eyes. 

Within,  in  the  Servian  room,  Halim  Pasha  related  what 
had  happened.  Sergei  sobbed  and  cried  continually;  little 
Anna  sat  in  a  chair  with  her  head  in  her  hands,  listening  in 
silence.  Katya  stood  stiffly  upright  before  the  General.  Her 
great  hot  eyes  never  left  his  face. 

"  And  the  murderer  ?"  she  asked,  when  Halim  Pasha 
paused. 

"  His  name  is  Abbas.  He  was  still  living  when  I  left  the 
lines." 

"  What  motive  does  he  give  ?" 

"  It  appears  that  there  was  some  trouble  yesterday  in  the 
streets,  and  the  Consul,  in  the  excitement  of  the  moment, 
struck  him  with  his  whip." 

"  Your  Excellency  is  misinformed.  It  was  Abbas  who  first 
laid  hand  upon  the  Russian  Consul.  My  husband  related 
the  whole  affair  at  dinner  yesterday  evening." 


240  KATYA 

"  I  do  not  doubt  that  it  is  as  you  say.  Abbas  was  too 
weak  from  his  wounds  to  permit  of  any  cross-examination  at 
the  time.  His  punishment  is  sure.  And  whatever  com- 
pensation it  is  possible  to  offer  for  the  misdeed  will  be  made. 
I  have  already  informed  the  Imperial  Government  and 
Hassan  Fehmi  Pasha  of  what  has  happened,  and  await  my 
instructions.  Permit  me,  for  my  own  part,  to  assure  you 
that  this  most  painful  accident  cuts  me  to  the  heart.  Russia 
has  lost  a  faithful  servant,  your  children  a  loving  father, 
yourself  ..." 

"  I  thank  Your  Excellency.  What  is  done  is  done;  no 
words  can  alter  it.  You  will  permit  me  to  retire." 

The  General  bowed  deeply,  and  left  the  room. 

Katya  walked  to  the  window,  and  leaned  her  forehead 
against  the  glass.  Here  Niki  had  stood  the  evening  before 
and  seen  his  murderers  march  past.  Here  he  had  paced  up 
and  down,  telling  of  the  dangers  that  threatened.  "  And  in 
the  face  of  all  this,  you  choose  to  take  Farringham's  arm,  and 
leave  me  .  .  ." 

Alone  I  A  cruel  word — worse  than  all  else  that  he  had 
said.  She  felt  it  now  that  it  was  she  who  stood  alone,  for- 
saken by  the  single  soul  that  loved  her,  the  only  man  who 
could  make  a  home  to  shelter  her.  There  was  no  one  now 
in  all  the  world  with  whom  she  dared  grow  old.  "  Too  late, 
it  is  too  late,  poor  Katya  ..." 

With  an  effort  she  recalled  herself  to  the  present. 

"  Sergei  and  Anna,  go  into  the  garden  and  pick  every  flower 
there  is.  And  we  will  strew  them  on  the  passage  to  this  room, 
where  your  father  will  lie  till  we  can  take  him  back  to 
Russia." 

"  Mama,"  said  Anna  softly,  "  I  want  so  to  write  to  grand- 
papa." 

"  Later,  my  child,  not  now.  We  must  send  telegrams  to 
many  others  besides  your  grandfather.  Do  as  I  say." 

As  soon  as  she  was  alone,  Katya  cleared  a  place  in  the 
centre  of  the  room,  arranging  the  furniture  close  up  to  the 
walls.  Moving  a  chair,  she  came  upon  a  riding-whip  that 
lay  on  the  carpet.  The  sight  of  the  vicious  toy  gave  her  a 
shock.  The  blood  rushed  to  her  head,  the  room  swam  before 
her  eyes.  "  You  have  borne  children,  but  you  are  barren, 
Katya,  and  your  heart  is  little  and  poor,"  She  leaned  against 


THE  BITTER  HARVEST  241 

the  wall,  feeling  as  though  her  head's  weight  were  too  heavy 
to  bear.  At  last  she  pulled  herself  together,  clenching  her 
hands  till  the  knuckles  showed  white,  and  went  about  her 
work. 

There  came  a  knock  at  the  door.  It  was  the  kavass,  red- 
eyed  and  trembling  still.  Tears — all  of  them  had  tears,  save 
only  she. 

"  The  escort,  Your  Highness — the  escort  is  coming,  with — 
with  ..." 

Katya  went  out  into  the  sunlight.  The  ragged  fugitives 
could  see  that  her  face  was  whiter  than  the  white  of  her  dress, 
and  her  eyes  burned  as  in  fever.  To  herself  it  seemed  as 
though  all  time  had  ceased,  and  all  about  her  was  vague  and 
without  meaning. 

The  children  came  up,  laden  with  their  flowers,  and  com- 
menced to  strew  them  on  the  path  that  led  from  the  stair 
down  to  the  open  gate. 

The  guard  of  honour  presented  arms  and  lowered  their 
colours  as  the  escort  approached. 

Slowly  the  soldiers,  carrying  the  bier  shoulder  high,  moved 
through  the  gateway,  Yussuf  and  Ibrahim  following. 

Katya  took  the  two  children  by  the  hand  and  bade  the 
soldiers  lay  down  their  burden.  The  kavasses  stepped  for- 
ward in  their  places,  and  bore  the  body  of  their  master  through 
the  crowd  of  peasants  along  the  flower-strewn  path,  into  the 
room  where  Katya  the  night  before  had  prayed  her  husband 
for  forgiveness. 

As  the  kavasses  were  about  to  retire,  Katya  went  up  to 
Yussuf  and  held  out  a  hand.  Sobbing,  he  bent  to  raise  it  to 
his  lips,  but  Katya  drew  him  up  and  kissed  her  husband's 
faithful  servant  on  the  forehead.  Little  Anna  Nikolaievna 
threw  her  arms  about  his  neck  and  whispered :  "  God  repay 
you,  dear,  dear  Yussuf  !" 

Katya  knelt  down  with  her  children  beside  the  bier,  and 
lifted  with  trembling  hands  the  cloth  that  covered  the  face 
of  the  corpse. 

Sergei  gave  a  shriek  and  hid  himself,  still  wailing,  in  a 
corner;  Anna  Nikolaievna  slipped  quietly  to  the  floor  and 
lay  as  dead.  But  Katya  let  her  hand  rest  long  upon  the  cold, 
white  forehead,  and  smoothed  the  hair,  as  far  as  was  possible, 
beneath  the  bandage  that  hid  the  wound  behind.  Then, 

16 


242  KATYA 

bending  down,  she  kissed  the  two  closed  eyes,  as  he  that  lay 
there  had  kissed  hers  the  night  before.  She  laid  her  head 
upon  his  breast  where  no  heart  beat,  and  whispered:  "  Niki, 
you  loved  me — let  me  feel  that  you  forgive." 

Then  she  rose,  and  making  the  sign  of  the  cross,  replaced  the 
covering,  and  folded  the  dead  man's  hands  below  his  breast. 

Anna  had  come  to  herself  again,  and  kneeling  down, 
begged  to  see  her  father's  face  once  more.  Katya  lifted  the 
cloth  again,  and  the  child  kissed  the  dead  lips,  but  started 
back  at  the  cold  of  the  touch.  She  was  trembling  all  over, 
and  made  no  protest  or  resistance  as  Katya  led  her  away. 

The  sun  was  shining  through  the  window  into  the  room 
with  its  Servian  peasant  work,  where  the  Russian  Consul 
in  the  City  of  Suffering  lay  dead.  Outside  on  the  quay,  beside 
the  river  that  flows  down  from  Mukovo  hills,  Turkish  soldiers 
kept  the  last  watch  over  the  body  of  him  whom  one  of  their 
own  had  murdered.  And  within,  under  the  shelter  of  the 
walls,  the  fugitives  wept  for  the  death  of  the  Eagle  whose 
broad  spread  wings  had  given  them  comfort  and  protection. 

The  news  was  carried  rapidly  from  house  to  house  through- 
out the  town.  The  elders  of  the  Mohammedan  community 
hastened  to  Halim  Pasha  to  ask  what  penalty  would  be 
exacted.  .  .  .  The  Bulgarians  kept  to  their  houses,  ashamed, 
in  face  of  the  fact,  to  reflect  that  they  also  had  sought  this 
man's  life.  Greek  and  Jewish  merchants  regretted  bitterly 
the  loss  which  they  would  suffer  when  the  Princess  was  no 
longer  among  them.  And  the  Servians  flocked  to  their 
churches  to  pray  for  the  soul  which  God  had  called  unto 
Himself. 

The  old  Greek  Bishop,  accompanied  by  four  priests, 
attended  at  the  Consulate  to  celebrate  the  last  rites  over  the 
body,  which  was  laid  in  its  coffin  dressed  in  full  uniform. 

Out  in  the  valley  by  Mukovo  the  firing  had  ceased.  The 
Albanians  withdrew  sullenly  to  their  hills  on  learning  that 
the  Russian  Consul  had  fallen  by  the  hand  of  a  Mussulman. 

The  little  ladies  of  Halim  Pasha's  harem  trembled  for  the 
fate  of  their  lord,  and  waited  in  strained  anxiety  to  hear 
what  it  might  please  or  behove  the  Council  of  the  Khalif, 
under  pressure  from  the  Russian  Government,  to  decree. 

The  other   Consulates   hoisted    their    flags   at    half-mast. 


THE  BITTER  HARVEST  243 

Henri  de  Beaufort,  as  representative  of  the  nearest  allied 
Power,  took  over  the  management  of  Russian  Consular  affairs 
in  Stradovo  pending  the  arrival  of  an  Acting-Consul  from 
Salonika  or  Constantinople.  Ritter  v.  Eichwald  whispered 
confidentially  to  his  wife  that  he  was  not  surprised.  He  was 
most  sorry  for  Halim  Pasha — which  did  not  prevent  him, 
however,  from  paying  the  customary  visit  of  condolence,  in 
common  with  his  colleagues  of  Italy,  Greece,  Servia,  and 
Roumania,  and  laying  flowers  upon  Niki's  coffin. 

Farringham  excused  himself  on  the  ground  of  illness.  Later 
a  letter  was  brought  to  Katya  from  the  British  Consulate. 

Meanwhile  the  news  was  spreading  farther  afield.  The 
Grand  Vizier  and  one  of  the  highest  dignitaries  of  the  Court 
arrived  simultaneously  at  the  Russian  Embassy  in  Con- 
stantinople, where  Korenof  received  them  in  grief  and  anger. 
Shortly  after  these  visits  had  taken  place  in  the  Grande  Rue 
de  Pera,  a  rumour — originating  no  one  knew  where — arose 
in  the  bazaar  at  Stambul,  to  the  effect  that  the  Russian  Black 
Sea  fleet  had  been  ordered  to  sea,  and  that  three — some  said 
five,  or  even  six — army  corps  were  being  mobilized. 

Vasili  Miliukin  waited  on  the  Tsar  at  Peterhof  during 
the  morning,  and  was  later  called  to  the  presence  of  the 
Empress  Maria  Feodorovna  at  Gatschina.  The  Turkish 
Ambassador  was  kept  waiting  at  the  Ministry  for  nearly 
two  hours. 

The  Russian  Consul  in  Stradovo  had  been  murdered — 
murdered  by  a  Turkish  soldier,  within  the  Turkish  lines, 
although  in  uniform  and  accompanied  by  a  Turkish  officer. 
The  information  was  communicated  by  the  official  agency 
in  St.  Petersburg  to  the  Russian  and  foreign  press,  couched 
in  the  clearest  terms,  which  left  no  doubt  but  that  Russia 
would  have  recourse  to  the  severest  measures  if  its  demands 
for  compensation  were  not  immediately  complied  with. 

The  news  reached  Princess  Rilinski  at  Priluka;  General 
Karatayef  and  Sony  a  Dolgoruki  heard  it  in  Odessa;  it  came 
to  Petya  Orloff  at  Sevastopol  and  to  Vladimir  Shipagin  at 
Patkanovo.  It  spread  throughout  the  Slav  lands  of  Europe, 
and  across  the  boundaries  of  continents. 

The  staff  of  the  Consulate  had  requested  Katya  to  be 
present  while  the  official  papers  were  temporarily  arranged 


244  KATYA 

and  disposed  of.  As  soon  as  she  had  dressed,  she  went  down 
to  the  Chancellery.  Her  black  dress  increased  the  pallor 
of  her  hands  and  face ;  she  moved  as  in  a  dream ;  yet  no  one 
had  ever  seen  her  bearing  so  majestically  dignified  as  on  that 
day.  Henri  de  Beaufort,  the  only  one  of  Niki's  colleagues 
whom  she  received  in  person,  bowed  with  respectful  ad- 
miration. 

"  Karatayefs  secretary  has  brought  me  something  which 
he  declares  is  the  draft  of  an  official  report,"  he  said.  "  I 
am  at  present  unable  to  say  what  bearing  the  document  may 
have  upon  the  situation.  But  if  you  feel  yourself  equal  to 
the  task,  madame,  I  would  beg  you  to  look  through  it.  When 
I  received  the  visits  of  my  colleagues  on  your  behalf,  I 
gathered,  from  some  words  von  Eichwald  let  fall,  that  the 
story  of  the  affair  with  Abbas  yesterday  is  already  being 
circulated  by  the  Turks  in  a  highly  coloured  form.  This 
report  might  possibly  be  of  value  to  your  Ambassador  in 
Constantinople,  and  in  such  case  I  would  suggest  that  it  should 
be  telegraphed  immediately  to  the  Embassy.  I  beg  you  to 
forgive  me,  madame,  for  troubling  you  with  matters  of 
business  at  such  a  time." 

"  I  thank  you — you  are  perfectly  right.  Nothing  must 
be  left  undone  which  might  serve  to  protect  the  memory  of 
my  husband." 

Katya  sat  down  at  the  table  and  began  to  read  the  report 
which  Nikolai  Karatayef  had  penned  there  the  evening  before. 

"  This  is  most  important,"  she  said,  after  reading  a  few 
lines.  "  It  is  a  detailed  description  of  the  events  of  yesterday. 
I  will  translate  it  for  you.  We  must  have  it  sent  off  at  once 
— in  cipher." 

Katya  commenced  to  read.  De  Beaufort  settled  himself  in 
his  chair. 

'  ...  At  the  same  time,  however,  I  received  from  private 
sources  a  notification  of  the  fact  that  the  Mohammedans  were 
holding  meetings  in  their  mosques,  while  the  remaining 
population  was  confined  behind  closed  doors.  The  town 
being  thus  practically  at  the  mercy  of  the  Mohammedans, 
I  decided  ..." 

Katya  read  one  more  sheet  and  yet  another  of  Niki's  firm, 
clear  writing,  and  then — 

"  .  * .  At  the  same  moment  I  caught  sight  of  .  .  ." 


THE  BITTER  HARVEST  245 

She  stopped,  and  sat  staring  at  the  paper.  "  It  seems  to 
end  here,"  she  said  at  last,  speaking  very  slowly.  "  The  rest 
is  ...  erased." 

"  Let  us  begin  to  code  the  first  sheets.  Try  to  find  out,  if 
you  can,  what  opinion  the  Consul  had  intended  to  express 
as  to  the  remainder." 

De  Beaufort  went  out  into  the  office  and  began  to  give  in- 
structions. "  With  all  possible  speed,  gentlemen,  if  you 
please.  The  document  will  prove  of  the  utmost  importance 
in  the  negotiations  now  going  on  between  the  Embassy  and 
the  Turkish  Government.  Meanwhile,  we  must  wire  express 
to  let  the  Ambassador  know  what  is  coming." 

Katya  stared  and  stared  at  the  paper.  Holding  it  up  to 
the  light,  she  realized  that  two  names  were  hidden  under  the 
close,  careful  strokes.  She  pressed  the  paper  against  a 
window-pane,  and  read : 

"  Katya  and  George  Farringham." 

She  closed  her  eyes,  as  if  refusing  to  see  more.  But  some 
secret  power  beyond  herself  forced  her,  as  though  under  the 
lash,  to  read  the  riddle  and  drink  out  its  bitter  draught.  .  .  . 
There  was  nothing  more  .  .  .  nothing  but  lines  and  flourishes 
in  meaningless  design.  .  .  .  And  yet,  here,  farther  on  again, 
a  something  hidden  in  the  maze  of  twirling  strokes  .  .  .  again 
a  name.  ...  "  Katya "  she  read,  and  her  heart  beat  fast. 
"  Katya  "  again.  A  happy  flush  lit  her  pale  face,  and  her  burn- 
ing eyes  grew  soft  and  glad.  "  Katya,"  she  read  once  more,  and 
it  was  as  cooling  dew  upon  her  fevered  mind. 

Then  only  waving,  curling  confusion  of  mazy  lines  down 
to  the  very  bottom  of  the  page. 

She  turned  the  sheet,  hungering  for  fresh  signs  to  feed  her 
trembling  hope. 

"  Sonya  !"  The  white,  unsullied  sheet  bore  but  the  single 
name,  bold,  clear,  triumphant. 

Katya  sank  back  in  her  chair  with  a  cry  that  shattered  all 
the  stillness  of  the  place. 

De  Beaufort  came  hurrying  in.  "  What  is  it  ?  Ah, 
madame,  you  overstrain  yourself  !" 

She  stared  at  him  as  half  unconscious  of  his  meaning.  Then, 
rousing  herself,  she  sat  up.  "  It  is  nothing.  There  is  nothing 
more."  And  slowly,  with  trembling  hands,  she  tore  the 
paper  into  many  pieces. 


246  KATYA 

"  Is  there  more  that  you  would  wish  me  to  see  ?"  she  asked. 

"I  think  not,  madame.  The  papers  which  your  husband 
has  locked  away  may  be  safely  left  until  the  arrival  of  an 
official  from  Constantinople." 

Katya  rose,  and  looked  over  the  writing-table,  where 
everything  lay  as  Karatayef  had  left  it  the  night  before.  Her 
eyes  fell  on  a  scrap  of  paper  with  "  N.B."  in  large  letters  in 
one  corner.  She  stood  a  moment  holding  it  in  her  hand. 

"  My  husband  had  not  finished  his  report,"  she  said  at  last, 
turning  to  de  Beaufort.  "  It  is  evident  from  this,"  she 
held  up  the  paper — "  that  he  intended  to  mention  the  affair 
with  Abbas.  Moreover,  he  must  have  foreseen  his  fate.  He 
has  written  here  in  Russian,  '  Patrol  No.  9,  Abbas.  The 
murderers.'  My  poor  Niki,  what  a  night  it  must  have  been  ! 
And  he  was  alone — alone  !" 

"  I  beg  you  to  carefully  preserve  the  note.  It  may  be  of 
the  utmost  importance  at  the  trial.  I  will  inform  the 
Ambassador  at  once." 

"  I  thank  you,  my  friend.  If  you  have  further  need  of  me, 
I  shall  be  ready." 

"  Madame,  permit  me  to  express  my  admiration.  I  under- 
stand now  better  even  than  before,  why  the  people  call  you 
'  the  Princess.'  " 

The  day  dragged  on.  Katya  wandered  restlessly  up  and 
down  in  the  drawing-room,  filled  with  its  memories  of  Priluka. 
In  the  adjoining  apartment,  behind  closed  doors,  lay  the 
body  of  her  husband,  covered  with  flowers  and  surrounded 
by  lighted  tapers,  with  Yussuf  and  Ibrahim,  drawn  swords 
in  their  hands,  mounting  guard  on  either  side.  A  stream 
of  people  passed  through  the  room,  paying  last  honours  to  the 
corpse  and  the  flag  that  lay  across  its  breast.  There  were 
those  of  the  fugitive  peasants  who  knelt  by  the  coffin  and 
prayed  aloud  for  the  dead  man's  soul.  Women  came  also, 
wailing  and  weeping ;  little  children  cried  aloud  in  fear. 

And  there  were  telegrams — a  ceaseless  stream.  Katya 
opened  them  mechanically  and  read  them  idly,  without  feeling, 
even  those  from  her  nearest.  Farringham's  letter  lay  un- 
opened on  the  table.  The  telegrams  sent  in  the  name  of  the 
Tsar,  and  of  the  Empress  Maria  Feodorovna,  demanded 
answer.  She  dictated  brief  replies.  One  from  the  Sultan 
she  crushed  and  flung  upon  the  floor,  as  also  that  from  Vasili 


THE  BITTER  HARVEST  247 

Miliukin.  Korenof's  message  failed  to  move  her.  There 
was  in  her  heart  but  one  answer  to  them  all.  "  Too  late  ! 
too  late  I"  It  was  true,  what  Kleopatra  Georgievna  had 
said  one  day  in  Paris  that  politics  were  the  ruin  of  a  home. 
How  happy  she  and  Niki  might  have  been  here  in  this  City 
of  Suffering  if  Vasili  Miliukin  had  not  come  into  power,  and 
sold  his  daughter  to  the  enemies  of  the  Slavs.  .  .  .  Behind 
the  hand  that  had  loosed  the  shot  that  day  stood  many,  many 
others,  whose  evil  work  had  robbed  her  of  her  husband  ere 
she  had  found  time  to  prove  herself  worthy  of  his  love  and 
his  forgiveness. 

She  opened  Farringham's  letter*    It  was  brief : 

"  Trust  me — whatever  happens  in  your  life  or  mine." 

No  more.  There  was  no  need.  This  was  her  one  true 
English  knight — she  was  perhaps  not  all  forsaken  yet. 
Perhaps  she  yet  might  dare  to  lift  her  head  and  hope  for  rest 
and  quiet  peace  after  the  merciless  sorrow  of  this  day.  Per- 
haps it  was  not  yet  too  late  .  .  .  poor  Katya  ! 

A  kavass  entered  with  yet  another  telegram,  and  the 
further  message  that  Halim  Pasha  was  in  the  office  with 
Monsieur  de  Beaufort.  Katya  opened  the  telegram,  and  read : 

"  Cruiser  Admiral  Orloff  left  Sevastopol  for  Salonika, 
whence  Consul  Karatayef  s  body  will  be  carried  to  Odessa." 

"  KORENOF." 

"  Admiral  Orloff !"  Prince  Sergei's  old  and  faithful  friend. 
Petya's  father  !  Possibly  Petya  was  himself  on  board.  .  .  . 
Ah,  Heaven  !  the  happy  years  at  home  in  far  Ukraine !  Never 
such  years  again;  never  make  pilgrimage  with  Niki  to  the 
shrine  of  their  young  love;  never  stand  by  his  side  and  hear 
him  say  he  loved  her — and  forgave.  .  .  . 

Another  knock.  "  Forgive  me,  madame,"  said  de  Beau- 
fort, "  for  again  disturbing  you.  Halim  Pasha  is  here.  He 
tells  me  that  Hassan  Fehmi  Pasha  has  left  Skoplie  by  special 
train.  He  comes  as  Emissary  Extraordinary  from  the  Sultan. 
Halim  Pasha  begs  me  to  inquire  whether  you  will  receive 
Hassan  Fehmi  this  evening,  or  if  you  would  prefer  ..." 

"  Tell  me,  de  Beaufort,  honestly,  is  it  imperative  that  I 
receive  him  at  all  ?  Why  must  I  be  persecuted  by  these 
people  ?  The  very  sight  of  a  Turk  is  hateful  to  me  now." 


248  KATYA 

"  It  would  be  difficult  to  refuse  a  dignitary  of  so  high 
standing — and  on  such  a  mission.  Your  own  Government 
would  doubtless  wish  you  to  receive  him.  As  far  as  I  can 
understand,  Hassan  Fehmi  Pasha  comes  with  a  personal 
expression  of  regret  from  the  Sultan  and  the  Sublime  Porte." 

"I  do  not  wish  to  hear  more  of  Turkish  regrets  and 
sympathy." 

"  I  beg  you  to  remember,  madame,  that  Karatayef  was 
not  only  your  husband,  but  also  the  representative  of  a  great 
Power.  Russia  demands  of  you  to  act  as  the  heir  to  his 
obligations." 

"  You  are  right,  de  Beaufort."  She  drew  herself  up. 
"  I  have  no  right  to  any  weakness  this  day.  I  will  receive 
Hassan  Fehmi  Pasha  this  evening,  as  soon  as  he  arrives.  And 
I  should  be  glad  if  you  would  be  present." 

When  the  Emissary  Extraordinary  of  the  Khalif  arrived  at 
the  little  railway-station  of  Stradovo  shortly  after  sunset, 
the  streets  leading  to  the  Russian  Consulate  were  already 
lined  with  soldiers  bearing  torches.  Hassan  Fehmi  Pasha 
wore  a  gold -embroidered  uniform  resplendent  with  jewelled 
orders.  His  carriage  was  escorted  by  a  troop  of  cavalry 
with  lances  raised. 

He  was  met  at  the  entrance  to  the  Consulate  by  the  French 
Consul,  who  escorted  him  to  the  drawing-room,  where  the 
doors  leading  to  the  Servian  room  stood  open. 

Hassan  Fehmi  Pasha  passed  in  to  where  the  Russian  Consul 
lay  in  his  open  coffin.  He  bowed  three  times  before  the  body, 
touching  with  his  right  hand,  according  to  Turkish  custom, 
his  foot,  his  breast,  lips,  and  forehead,  and  remained  standing 
in  silence  for  some  minutes  by  the  bier.  De  Beaufort  saw 
the  tears  running  down  the  old  man's  face. 

He  returned  to  the  drawing-room.  As  Katya  entered, 
bearing  the  Shefakat  Order  on  her  black  dress,  he  bowed 
anew  three  times.  She  bent  her  head  without  speaking. 

"  Madame,"  began  the  emissary,  his  gentle  voice  trembling 
with  sincere  emotion,  "  my  Imperial  Master  has  sent  me  to 
convey  to  you  the  deep  sorrow  which  he  and  all  his  subjects 
feel  at  the  news  of  the  horrible  deed  which  has  robbed  you 
of  a  noble  husband  and  lost  your  country  a  distinguished 
servant.  To  this  my  duty,  madame,  I  pray  you  allow  me 


THE  BITTER  HARVEST  249 

to  add  my  own  sincerest  sympathy  with  yourself  in  your  great 
loss." 

He  took  a  step  forward,  as  though  to  kiss  her  hand.  Katya 
stepped  back  and  put  her  hands  behind  her  back. 

"  I  thank  Your  Excellency,"  she  said  coldly. 

The  old  man  looked  sorrowfully  at  her,  and  sighed. 

"  Madame,"  he  went  on,  "  my  Imperial  Master  has  already 
intimated  to  His  Majesty  the  Tsar  his  sorrow  and  distress  at 
this  misdeed.  He  commands  me  to  inform  you  that  as  far 
as  it  is  humanly  possible  to  atone  for  the  crime  and  avert  its 
consequences,  this  will  be  done  without  scruple  or  delay. 
The  General  commanding  the  Imperial  troops  in  Stradovo, 
Halim  Pasha,  is  dismissed  and  banished.  .  .  ." 

Katya  made  an  impatient  movement.  De  Beaufort  touched 
her  arm. 

"...  The  Mutessarif,  Sayyid  Bey,  is  superseded.  All  the 
officers  of  the  company  to  which  the  miscreant  belonged  will 
be  degraded  from  their  rank.  At  the  trial,  which  will  take 
place  as  soon  as  the  new  Russian  Consul  arrives  at  Stradovo, 
the  Advocate  Imperial  is  instructed  to  demand  the  con- 
demnation of  the  miscreant  to  death  by  hanging  .  .  ," 

"  Call  him  by  his  true  name — murderer  !"  broke  in  Katya 
fiercely.  "  The  murderer — the  Sultan's  uniformed  assassin  !" 
Henri  de  Beaufort  whispered  entreatingly,  "  Madame  !" 

Hassan  Fehmi  Pasha  met  her  outburst  with  a  look  of  gentle 
sympathy.  "  I  understand,"  he  said;  "  from  my  heart  I  feel 
with  you  in  this  moment,  madame.  And  I  would  beg  you 
to  believe  that  my  Imperial  Master  has  never  laid  upon  me 
a  heavier  duty." 

"  Let  there  be  no  misunderstanding  between  us,  Your 
Excellency,"  said  Katya  proudly.  "  I  am  but  little  interested 
in  the  punishment  of  Abbas  and  the  rest.  But  I  will  not 
endure  the  slightest  shadow  cast  upon  my  husband's  action. 
My  children  and  I  can  witness  before  God  that  we  have  heard 
from  his  own  mouth  everything  that  passed.  He  acted  as 
a  man  of  honour  and  a  true  Russian." 

"  God  rest  his  soul,  and  aid  you,  madame,  and  your  children 
in  this  hour."  The  old  man  paused,  and  looked  about  him. 
Then,  drawing  a  deep  breath,  he  continued,  with  evident 
effort:  "  I  have  yet  a  further  command  to  execute  on  behalf 
of  my  Imperial  Master.  It  is  his  wish  to  remove,  as  far  as 


250  KATYA 

lies  in  his  power,  such  of  your  anxiety  and  distress  as  is 
not  due  to  the  purely  personal  sorrow  of  your  irreparable 
loss  .  .  ." 

"  Your  Excellency  means  to  say  ?  .  .  ."  Katya  brushed 
her  hair  back  from  her  pale  forehead,  and  grasped  a  chair 
for  support. 

"  Russia  will  best  know  how  to  succour  the  widow  and 
children  of  her  noble  son.  My  Imperial  Master  has,  however, 
after  consultation  with  the  Russian  Ambassador  in  Con- 
stantinople, commanded  me  to  tender  you,  madame,  as  some 
support  towards  your  children's  future,  this  .  .  .  this  .  .  .  " — 
the  old  man  drew  out  a  slip  of  paper — "  this  cheque  for 
two  hundred  thousand  francs,  together  with  his  most  earnest 
wishes  for  their  welfare  ..." 

Katya  took  the  cheque  which  Hassan  Fehmi  Pasha  had  laid 
upon  the  table.  Through  a  mist  she  read  "  Banquet  Otto- 
mane.  .  .  .  Madame  E.  S.  Karatayef  .  .  .  deux  cent  mille 
francs  en  or  .  .  ."  Suddenly  she  stepped  forward  towards  the 
Sultan's  emissary,  and  spoke  through  clenched  teeth,  tremb- 
ling all  over  : 

"  Blood  money  .  .  .  blood  money  I  ..." 

The  old  man  made  a  piteously  deprecating  gesture.  Henri 
de  Beaufort  stepped  forward  and  laid  an  entreating  hand 
upon  her  arm. 

"  He  who  lies  there  was  mine  .  .  .  mine  .  .  .  and  you  have 
taken  him  from  me  .  .  .  and  he  loved  me  ..." 

Her  great  eyes  filled  with  tears — the  first  of  all  this  bitter 
day. 

"  See  !"  she  said,  still  trembling.  "  So  I  answer  you — 
for  himself  and  me  !"  Viciously  she  tore  the  cheque  across 
and  across,  and  flung  the  pieces  on  the  floor.  The  two  men 
looked  at  her,  shaken  and  distressed.  "  More  yet,"  she  went 
on,  her  bosom  heaving  with  quick  breath.  "  Bring  this,  I 
beg  you,  to  your  Imperial  Master  ..." 

And  tearing  the  Turkish  Order  from  her  breast,  she  dashed 
it  down  at  the  emissary's  feet. 

"  Tell  him  that  Nikolai  Karatayef 's  wife  will  neither  sell 
her  husband's  blood  nor  bear  the  Order  of  his  murderer  !" 

Drawing  her  skirts  aside,  she  swept  past  the  Sultan's 
messenger  and  passed  into  the  chamber  of  death. 

The  two  men  looked  helplessly  at  each  other.     De  Beaufort 


THE  BITTER  HARVEST  251 

began  mechanically  to  pick  up  the  scattered  fragments  of 
the  cheque. 

Hassan  Fehmi  Pasha  shook  his  white  head  mournfully. 
"  Poor  lady  I"  he  said.  "  Poor,  suffering  thing  !" 

The  French  Consul  escorted  him  to  the  gate,  and  he  drove 
away  through  the  lines  of  torches.  De  Beaufort  went  to  his 
home,  escorted  by  his  kavasses.  His  thoughts  were  all  of 
Katya. 

The  gate  of  the  Russian  Consulate  was  closed  for  the  night. 
Room  had  been  found  in  the  house,  the  stables,  and  storage 
sheds  for  the  Servian  fugitives'  women  and  children.  The 
men  lay,  wrapped  in  skin  coats  and  rugs,  about  the  lawns 
and  close  along  the  walls.  Outside  on  the  quay  sounded  the 
heavy,  regular  footfall  of  the  Turkish  guard,  pacing  up  and 
down  before  the  shut  and  silent  house. 

Within,  in  the  chamber  of  death,  Katya  had  flung  herself 
upon  the  open  coffin,  hiding  her  face  close  to  the  dead  man's 
heart.  The  two  kavasses  stood  silent  and  motionless  at 
the  head  of  the  bier.  The  air  was  heavy  with  incense,  and 
the  scent  of  flowers,  and  smoke  of  many  candles.  She  lay 
there  long.  The  blood  throbbed  in  her  temples  and  sang  in  her 
ears;  her  breath  came  hastily,  brokenly;  her  body  winced 
and  shuddered  as  though  in  physical  pain.  But  Katya  had 
no  thought  of  feeling  for  aught  beyond  the  trouble  of  her 
soul.  The  sharp  edge  of  the  coffin  pressed  itself  into  her  arm ; 
the  harsh,  rough  metal  of  gold  lace  and  orders  crushed  into 
her  forehead.  She  heeded  nothing  of  it  all;  felt  only  that 
her  tears  flowed  now,  and  melted  in  some  measure  the  in- 
tolerable weight  about  her  heart. 

"  Niki,"  she  prayed  in  her  soul,  "  for  the  sake  of  Heaven's 
mercy,  trust  me,  Niki.  It  is  truth,  truth,  that  I  loved  you 
long  before  I  knew,  and  always  since.  I  have  not  been  a 
little  of  that  I  should  for  you.  I  left  you  alone — alone  !  And 
yet  I  have  been  always  yours.  I  know  how  you  were  better 
far  than  I,  strong,  faithful  Niki,  and  yet  I  have  never  been 
false  to  you  in  my  heart.  Niki,  my  soul  is  full  of  thankfulness 
for  all  you  were  to  me.  Your  little  Cossack,  Niki,  your 
Princess,  your  Katya,  poor,  poor  Katya  !  Pray  for  me,  Niki, 
and  help  me,  now  that  it  is  I  who  am  alone.  Watch  over  me, 
and  guard  me,  as  I  will  guard  your  memory,  my  love,  my 
love  !  .  .  ." 


252  KATYA 

The  lights  burned  faintly  in  the  heavy  air.  Still  as  dead 
figures,  yet  with  dewed  eyes,  the  two  kavasses  watched  the 
mourning  woman,  as  she  lay  with  her  head  near  her  lost 
husband's  heart, 

Her  tears  ceased,  the  heavy  shuddering  subsided;  only 
now  and  then  she  shivered  as  with  cold.  Her  breathing  fell 
to  a  slower,  heavier  rhythm;  the  straining  of  her  body  died 
away,  leaving  her  very  still.  Deep  silence  grew  about  the 
bier  where  Katya's  earliest  chosen  lover  lay  in  death. 

Somewhere  in  the  dark  behind  the  guttering  tapers  sounded 
the  heavy  pulse-beat  of  a  clock. 

The  two  kavasses  glanced  at  each  other.  The  clock  beat 
on  for  some  few  minutes  more.  Again  the  two  exchanged  a 
silent  glance. 

Then  Yussuf  laid  aside  his  sword,  and  moving  softly,  laid 
a  hand  on  Katya's  shoulder.  She  did  not  stir.  With  a 
movement  of  the  head  he  beckoned  Ibrahim.  Cautiously 
they  lifted  her,  and  bore  her  to  a  divan  in  the  room  beyond. 

She  did  not  wake  or  move.  Yussuf  took  down  a  hanging 
from  the  wall,  and  laid  it  gently  over  her.  -It  was  a  piece  of 
weaving  from  Priluka:  St.  Vladimir  and  his  lighted  Cross. 


BOOK    III 
THE   ADMIRAL 

CHAPTER  I 

A    NATIONAL    HEROINE 

THE  cruiser  Admiral  Orloff  was  ploughing  through  the  Black 
Sea  on  her  course  towards  Odessa,  with  the  naval  ensign  at 
half-mast. 

It  was  a  fine  summer  morning,  fresh  and  clear,  the  water 
rocking  gently  in  a  light  southerly  breeze. 

Up  on  the  after-deck  Katya  was  walking  to  and  fro  with 
the  second  in  command,  Captain  Peotr  Konstantinovitch 
Orloff.  They  had  been  talking  of  days  past. 

"  And  now  it  is  not  only  Priluka,"  said  Petya  enthusias- 
tically, "it  is  all  Russia — every  country  of  the  Slavs.  We 
had  a  mail  on  board  yesterday.  You  should  see  what  the 
papers  say.  Novoye  Vremya  has  an  article  with  the  heading 
in  Servian : '  Slava,  Kneginya,  Slava  !'  and  the  Odessa  papers 
have  copied  the  idea.  All  of  them  are  full  of  your  praise." 

"  You  can  lend  them  to  me  later  on/' 

"Two  things  especially  everyone  is  talking  of:  the  way 
you  received  the  Servian  fugitives  on  the  very  day,  and  then 
tearing  up  the  two  hundred  thousand  francs  before  the 
Pasha's  face." 

"  I  can  imagine  it.  Ever  since  we  left  Stradovo  I  have 
heard  of  nothing  else.  I  can't  see  anything  remarkable  in 
it  myself.  I  don't  know  what  else  I  should  have  done." 

"  Well,  it  isn't  everyone  who  would  have  acted  as  you  did. 
But  you  are  still  the  same  Katya  whom  we  all  loved  and 
worshipped  at  Priluka,  years  ago." 

"  You  need  not  think,  Petya,  that  everyone  is  as  admiring 
as  yourself.  When  old  Korenof  came  on  board  yesterday 
morning,  he  could  hardly  be  decently  polite.  And  at  Salonika 
the  other  day,  Hochstadt  was  all  but  positively  rude." 

253 


254  KATYA 

"  What  does  it  matter  about  them  ?  Your  children  can 
be  proud  of  their  mother.  The  men  on  board  here  talk  of 
you  and  look  up  to  you  as  a  saint.  You  will  see  what  a 
reception  they  will  give  you  in  Odessa." 

"  Oh,  don't,  Petya,  don't !  Think  of  the  mournful  freight 
we  have  on  board  !" 

They  paced  up  and  down  awhile  in  silence.  At  last  Katya 
spoke.  "  Don't  you  think  I've  grown  horribly  old,  Petya  ?" 

"  You  cannot  hide  your  age  from  me,  Katya.  I  can 
always  reckon  it  out  by  my  own.  You  will  be  thirty-six 
this  autumn.  But  honestly,  if  you  ask  me,  I  would  say  you 
look  twenty-five." 

"  How  can  you  talk  such  nonsense,  Petya  !  It  is  not  an 
hour  since  I  looked  in  the  glass  and  saw  how  I  have  aged  in 
Stradovo.  And  it  would  be  strange  if  I  had  not." 

"  For  me  you  are  as  you  have  always  been,  Katya.  I  can 
see  no  difference  from  the  time  when  .  .  .  when  ..."  He 
glanced  down  at  the  deck. 

"  I  can,  if  you  cannot,  Petya.  You  don't  know  what  it 
is  to  feel  one's  life  a  burden,  almost  a  shame  .  .  .  and  then  to 
be  alone  with  it  all — alone."  Her  eyes  filled  with  tears. 

"  Do  I  not  ?  There  is  nothing  I  better  know,  Katya. 
Oh,  don't !"  he  broke  off,  drawing  her  arm  through  his. 
"  Katya,  you  need  not  be  alone,  you  know.  There  are  enough 
of  us  who  care  for  you.  There  is  your  mother,  who  waits 
for  you  at  Priluka;  you  have  your  children — and,  Katya, 
you  have  me,  if  you  will.  I'm  not  worth  much,  I  know, 
but  all  these  years  I've  had  no  dearer  wish  than  that  you  one 
day  might  need  me,  so  that  I  could  row,  as  you  said — row 
hard,  and  let  you  steer." 

"  Dear  Petya,  you  are  a  faithful  friend."  She  pressed  his 
arm.  "  Yes,"  she  went  on,  half  to  herself,  "  Russians  also 
can  be  faithful." 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?" 

"  Oh,  nothing  !  Do  you  really  care  so  much,  Petya,  when 
you  have  not  seen  me  all  these  years  ?" 

"  Yes,  dear,"  he  answered  earnestly.  "  I  love  you,  as  I 
have  loved  you  since  you  were  a  little  girl.  If  ever  you  feel 
yourself  alone,  forsaken,  as  you  said,  and  need  someone 
to  ...  help  and  ...  be  good  to  you  .  .  .  you  know,  send  for 
me,  Katya.  You  will  make  me  happy  so." 


A  NATIONAL  HEROINE  255 

"  Petya,  will  you  come  to  Priluka  soon  ?" 

"  I  will  come  when  you  wish,  if  my  service  ..."  He  broke 
off  suddenly,  and  loosed  his  hold  of  her  arm.  "  What  is 
that  ?  Katya,  do  you  hear  ?  Someone  crying  ..." 

"  I  can  hear  nothing.  There  is  no  one  here.  .  .  .  Yes.  .  .  ." 
She  turned  half  round.  "  Strange  !  It  is  like  .  .  ." 

"  I  can't  make  out  .  .  ."  Petya's  eyes  searched  the  deck. 
There  seemed  no  hiding-place  for  any  creature  near,  save 
for  the  great  gun  that  thrust  its  long  bared  neck  towards 
them. 

A  heap  of  folded  tarpaulins  near  the  railing  caught  his 
eye.  He  went  to  investigate. 

"  Why,  child,"  he  said  kindly,  "  what  are  you  hiding  here 
for  ?  And  crying  ?  What  is  the  matter,  little  Anna  ?" 

Katya  hurried  up.  "  Anna,  what  does  this  mean  ?  How 
long  have  you  been  here  ?" 

"  Since  breakfast,  mama." 

"  But  what  a  place  to  choose  !     Why  on  earth  ..." 

"  It  was  the  only  place  I  could  find  to  be  by  myself.  There 
are  so  many  officers  and  sailors  everywhere.  And  I  asked 
an  officer  if  I  might  ..." 

"  But  what  are  you  crying  for  ?" 

"  I  can't  help  it,  mama.    My  father  .  .  ." 

"  Come  with  me,  little  one,"  said  Petya  gently.  "You 
can  sit  in  my  cabin.  No  one  will  disturb  you  there.  I  think 
you  will  like  it,  too.  There  is  a  picture  of  your  mother,  and 
I  will  give  you  some  papers  to  read  about  her." 

"  No,  thank  you,  I  will  go  down  to  Jeannette  and  Sergei, 
if  I  may.  I  can  find  the  way  by  myself." 

"  She  has  your  eyes,  Katya,"  said  Orloff,  when  the  child 
had  gone. 

"  Oh,  I  don't  know — she's  the  image  of  Niki,  I  think. 
What  time  should  we  be  in,  Petya  ?" 

"  We  ought  to  sight  Odessa  in  an  hour." 

"  I  am  afraid  to  see  that  place  again.  When  I  think  of  all 
that  has  happened  since  Niki  and  I  left  Russia  three  years 
ago.  ...  He  never  came  home  in  all  that  time,  and  I  myself 
only  once.  Is  Sonya's  church  finished  ?" 

"  Yes,  since  the  spring.  It  has  three  small  blue  cupolas — 
you  will  easily  recognize  it." 

"  I  cannot  understand  how  she  and  Gavril  Ivanovitch  ever 


256  KATYA 

could  bring  themselves  to  build  a  place  out  there.  Peressip 
has  always  been  for  me  the  ugliest  spot  in  all  Odessa." 

"  You  think  so,  too  ?"  said  Orloff  earnestly. 

"  When  I  think  of  all  that  papa  went  through  on  account  of 
Peressip  .  .  .  and  it  is  nothing  but  a  collection  of  slums.  I 
hope  nobody  knows  that  Novaya  Ekaterinskaya  is  named 
after  me !" 

"  There  are  many  that  think  so,  Katya." 

"  But  I  won't  have  it !"  She  stamped  her  foot.  "  What 
has  the  name  of  Rilinski  to  do  with  these  dirty  houses  and  the 
common  vulgar  people  that  live  in  them  ?" 

He  stood  looking  at  her  a  moment  in  silence.  "  Katya," 
he  said  at  last,  a  note  of  almost  pride  in  his  voice,  "  you  have 
not  changed.  You  are  the  Katya  I  always  loved." 

As  soon  as  the  Admiral  Orloff  had  berthed,  the  Governor 
of  the  Kherson,  Prince  Olenin,  came  on  board  to  receive,  in 
the  name  of  the  Government,  the  coffin  containing  Consul 
Karatayef's  body,  and  to  express  the  sympathy  of  the  Tsar 
and  all  his  people  with  the  widow  and  children  in  their  be- 
reavement. When  he  had  made  his  official  declaration,  and 
ceremoniously  kissed  Katya's  hand,  he  added:  "You  have 
won  the  admiration  of  high  and  low,  Ekaterina  Sergeievna; 
you  have  acted  like  a  true  Slav." 

General  Karatayef  came  on  board,  leaning  on  a  stick  and 
supported  by  Countess  Dolgoruki.  No  sooner  had  Anna 
Nikolaievna  caught  sight  of  him  than  she  ran  up  and  clung 
to  him,  sobbing  out  brokenly:  "  Grandpapa,  grandpapa  1" 

"  My  child,  my  darling !"    The  old  man  was  deeply  moved. 

A  short  service  was  held  on  board,  the  Governor-General, 
the  officers  of  the  ship,  and  the  family  of  the  deceased  attend- 
ing. The  coffin  was  then  borne  to  land  by  men  from  the 
Admiral  Orloff. 

The  mole  was  guarded  by  troops.  Priests  walked  in  front 
of  the  coffin,  and  behind  it  came  Prince  Olenin  with  Katya 
on  his  arm,  holding  her  little  son  by  the  hand.  Then  followed 
General  Karatayef  with  his  granddaughter,  and  Count  Gavril 
Dolgoruki  with  Sonya  and  their  children.  The  old  General 
stooped  sadly,  and  walked  with  difficulty,  his  stick  striking 
on  the  stones  for  every  step.  Count  Dolgoruki,  at  a  sign 
from  his  wife,  offered  the  old  man  his  arm ;  the  General  de- 


A  NATIONAL  HEROINE  257 

clined  it  with  a  weary  smile,  and  held  fast  to  Anna  Niko- 
laievna's  hand. 

The  little  procession  had  gone  but  a  little  way  along  the 
quay  when  the  mass  of  people  broke  through  the  insufficient 
cordon  of  the  military.  Wild  confusion  followed;  the  sailors 
were  obliged  to  set  the  coffin  down,  and  in  a  moment  the 
mourners  were  separated  from  it  by  a  swaying,  shouting 
crowd.  Prince  Olenin  gave  angry  orders,  but  there 
seemed  to  be  no  one  to  execute  them.  Men  and  women, 
young  and  old,  pressed  in  on  all  sides  to  get  a  sight  of  Katya. 
Some  students  sent  up  the  cry,  "  Slava,  knyaginya,  slava  !" — 
the  Russian  form  of  the  Servian  peasants'  greeting — and  it  was 
echoed  back  by  a  thousand  voices,  "  .Slava,  knyaginya,  slava  !" 
Helpless  and  incapable  of  resistance,  General  Karatayef 
was  thrust  backwards  and  forwards  with  the  mob.  Anna 
Nikolaievna  clung  to  him,  crying  with  fear.  None  knew  the 
pair,  none  thought  of  them,  or  of  the  flag-draped  coffin  with 
its  guard.  It  was  Katya  whom  all  would  see  and  honour. 
Young  girls  knelt  to  kiss  her  dress,  men  fought  their  way 
through  the  press  to  touch  her.  In  vain  the  Prince  and  the 
Count  endeavoured  to  protect  her ;  they  were  thrust  aside,  and 
scornful  mutterings  were  heard  of  "  Austrians  "  and  "  Traitors 
to  the  Slavs  !"  Katya  had  at  first  been  genuinely  frightened 
at  the  violence  of  the  crowd,  but  as  soon  as  she  realized  that 
their  excitement  was  all  homage  to  herself,  she  drew  aside  her 
veil  and  thanked  them  with  bright  smiles  on  every  hand, 
"  Slava,  knyaginya,  slava  I" 

At  last  the  quay  was  cleared  by  the  gendarmes  and  mounted 
police.  Horsemen  were  sent  on  ahead  with  orders  for  rein- 
forcement of  the  troops  lining  the  way,  and  Captain  Orloff 
hurried  up  with  a  detachment  of  his  men  to  act  as  further 
escort.  At  last  the  procession  moved  on,  after  almost  an 
hour's  delay. 

Katya  resumed  her  veil.  All  the  way  out  to  the  cemetery 
flowers  were  flung  before  her,  and  she  was  greeted  with  deep 
respect.  Behind  her  walked  General  Karatayef  and  Anna 
Nikolaievna,  unheeded  by  the  thousands  that  flocked  about 
the  coffin  in  full  uniform  or  civilian  mourning.  Among  them 
all  there  was  perhaps  but  one  besides  whose  thoughts  were 
near  to  those  of  the  old  man  and  the  child :  Sonya  Dolgoruki 
followed  her  earliest  love  to  the  grave. 


258  KATYA 

With  high  and  solemn  ceremony  the  body  of  Nikolai  Kara- 
tayef  was  committed  to  the  earth.  And  as  the  coffin  was 
lowered  down  to  disappear  in  the  cold  dark  where  Anna 
Dimitrievna  had  lain  so  many  years,  General  Karatayef  fell 
on  his  knees,  hiding  his  face  in  his  hands. 

Katya  and  her  little  son  drove  off  in  Prince  Olenin's  carriage, 
greeted  with  admiring  enthusiasm  by  an  untiring  crowd. 

Katya  and  the  two  children  stayed  at  the  old  house  in  the 
Konnaya.  General  Karatayef  had  invited  Count  and  Countess 
Dolgoruki  to  dinner,  with  Advocate  Mandelberg.  As  soon  as 
the  meal  was  over,  the  party,  with  the  exception  of  the 
children,  assembled  in  the  study,  where  the  General  requested 
permission  to  discuss  matters  of  business. 

"  I  suppose  we  must,  Nikolai  Feodorovitch,"  said  Katya, 
without  enthusiasm.  "  But  I  must  confess  I'm  horribly 
tired.  And  I  haven't  anything  to  say.  I  know  I  can  safely 
rely  on  the  dispositions  of  Niki's  father." 

"  Nevertheless  I  should  be  glad  if  you  would  permit  us  to 
briefly  review  the  situation,  Ekaterina  Sergeievna.    It  will 
also  be  of  some  importance  for  you  in  making  arrangements, 
for  your  future  mode  of  life." 

"  Oh,  my  future !  Have  I  any  future  ?  The  only  thing  I 
know  or  care  about  at  present  is  that  I  am  going  back  to 
mama  at  Priluka  to-morrow.  Beyond  that  I  have  thought  of 
nothing — nothing  1" 

"  But  your  children,  Katya,"  interposed  Sonya,  "  We 
must  think  of  them  first." 

"  You  promised  that  Sergei  might  stay  with  you  for  the 
present,  and  really  you  don't  know  how  grateful  I  am,  dear, 
both  to  yourself  and  Gavril  Ivanovitch.  I  would  gladly 
have  taken  Anna  with  me  to  Priluka;  she  is  such  a  quiet  little 
thing.  I  cannot  think  she  would  be  any  trouble  to  mama.  f . ." 

"  Neither  do  I,"  broke  in  the  General.  "  But  I  beg  you, 
Ekaterina  Sergeievna,  let  me  keep  little  Anna  for  a  while. 
She  needs  not  only  rest — that  she  would  find  at  Priluka  as 
nowhere  else — but  also  serious  regular  work  to  occupy  her 
thoughts,  And  that  would  be  difficult  at  Priluka." 

"  The  General  is  right,"  said  Sonya.  "  And  mama's  health 
being  so  poor,  I  hardly  think  you  ought  to  go  to  Priluka 
with  governess  and  tutor  whom  she  does  not  know.  Anna 


A  NATIONAL  HEROINE  259 

will  -be  more  comfortable  here  than  anywhere  dse,  and  I 
understood  from  Nikolai  Feodorovitch,  when  we  talked  over 
the  matter  a  day  or  two  ago,  that  he  will  invite  Miss  Warden 
to  stay  here  as  soon  as  she  returns  from  Stradovo  with  your 
things " 

"  Miss  Warden  and  Yussuf,"  corrected  the  General. 

"  It  is  exceedingly  kind  of  you,  Nikolai  Feodorovitch.  Niki 
was  right — no  one  could  have  a  better  father." 

<c  I  will  see  that  Anna  receives  the  best  teaching  it  is 
possible  to  give  her.  And  staying  here  with  me  she  will  be 
near  her  brother,  besides  her  uncle  and  aunt.  And  you  will 
not  leave  us  all  to  ourselves,  Sofia  Sergeievna,  that  I  know." 

"  I  am  sure  the  child  will  be  but  too  delighted  to  stay  with 
you,  Nikolai  Feodorovitch,  if  only  it  is  not  too  much  for  you. 
I  thank  you  all  for  being  so  good  to  me  and  the  little  ones." 

"  Then  that  is  settled,  I  will  now  ask  Advocate  Mandel- 
berg  to  explain  the  economical  position,"  said  the  General. 
"  Kindly  be  as  brief  as  possible,  Yakof  Isakovitch,  We  are 
all  more  or  less  tired." 

The  man  of  business  cleared  his  throat,  "  As  you  know, 
Ekaterina  Sergeievna,"  he  began,  "  Nikolai  Nikolaievitch 
leaves  practically  nothing,  as  the  General  his  father  did  not, 
during  his  son's  lifetime,  make  over  any  part  of  his  fortune  to 
the  latter.  As  far  as  I  am  aware  there  is  not  even  a  will,  ..." 

"  Nothing,"  put  in  Katya,  "  We  searched  everywhere,  but 
found  nothing  of  the  kind.  Niki  had  often  said  that  his 
father  would  take  care  of  me  and  the  children  if  anything 
happened." 

"  Perfectly  right,  I  return,  however,  to  my  first  point. 
From  your  late  husband,  Ekaterina  Sergeievna,  you  inherit 
nothing.  On  the  other  hand,  you  retain  unhampered  the 
whole  of  your  private  fortune,  and  the  income  deriving  there- 
from ;  that  is  to  say,  the  interest  of  your  paternal  inheritance 
invested  in  Peressip,  together  with  the  rent  of  the  houses 
belonging  to  yourself  in  Novaya  Ekaterinskaya,  made  over  to 
you  with  your  consent  by  General  Karatayef  on  your  wedding- 
day.  In  addition  to  this  there  will  be  your  pension  from  the 
State " 

"  Can  you  tell  me  what  that  is  likely  to  be  ?" 

"  I  cannot  say  definitely  at  present.  At  the  request  of 
General  Karatayef,  I  have  personally  interviewed  the  proper 


26o  KATYA 

officials  at  St.  Petersburg  upon  the  subject,  and  I  must  say 
my  reception  there  surprised  me.  The  ordinary  pension  is  so 
ridiculously  small  that  under  the  present  circumstances  there 
could  be  no  question  of  allowing  it  to  rest  at  that.  Application 
to  the  Adminstration  of  the  Imperial  Bounty  would  have  to 
be  made  by  yourself  in  person.  It  would  have  to  be  supported 
by  a  recommendation  from  the  Ministry  for  Foreign  Affairs, 
and  I  regret  to  say  that  the  Ministry  in  question  does  not 
appear  to  be  very  favourably  disposed  towards  ..." 

"  I  know  that  well  enough,"  said  Katya.  "  From  what 
Korenof  said,  it  seems  that  Russian  officialdom  is  displeased 
at  my  having  torn  up  the  two  hundred  thousand  francs.  I 
can't  help  it.  I  couldn't  have  done  anything  else." 

"  There  might  be  other  causes  of  displeasure,"  put  in  the 
General  quietly. 

"  You  mean  my  treatment  of  those  poor  Servians  ?  Oh,  I 
know  quite  well  that  I  have  again  offended  old  Koronef  there. 
But  is  it  not  strange  that  those  two  actions  which  have  so 
incensed  Miliukin  and  his  subordinates  are  just  the  things 
which  the  whole  of  the  people  most  approve  ?" 

No  one  answered.  The  pause  that  followed  was  becoming 
painful,  when  Mandelberg  came  to  the  rescue: 

"  Whether  your  pension  from  the  State  amounts  to  some 
few  thousand  roubles  more  or  less,  you  will  at  any  rate  enjoy 
an  income  sufficient  for  your  needs,  Ekaterina  Sergeievna. 
On  the  other  hand,  it  is  my  duty  to  inform  you  that  you  will 
no  longer  be  able  to  live  on  the  same  footing  as  hitherto. 
There  is  enough  to  keep  you  and  your  children  in  a  comfort- 
able position,  but  considerable  retrenchment  will  be  necessary. 
I  will  take  the  liberty  of  forwarding  to  you  at  Priluka  a  de- 
tailed statement  of  your  present  sources  of  income;  you  will 
then  be  able  to  make  your  own  arrangements  for  the  future." 

"  Thank  you,"  said  Katya  shortly.  "  I  do  not  know  " — 
she  glanced  round  at  the  others — "  if  there  is  more  business 
to  be  discussed  ?" 

"  Permit  me  to  make  a  suggestion,"  put  in  the  General. 
"  As  far  as  I  understand,  Miss  Warden  is  bringing  your  own 
and  Niki's  effects  to  Odessa.  Yussuf,  my  son's  true  servant, 
being  now  in  my  service,  will  accompany  her.  Now  you  will 
have  to  find  a  place  to  store  these  things  until  you  decide 
where  you  are  going  to  live.  ..  " 


A  NATIONAL  HEROINE  261 

"  Oh,  in  Odessa,  I  suppose.  You  are  all  here,  and  there  is 
Niki's  grave. ; , ." 

"  I  had  thought  so.  In  that  case,  the  house  here  is  at  your 
disposal;  there  is  room  and  to  spare  for  your  effects.  The 
horses,  I  am  afraid.  .  .  ." 

"  The  horses — Niki's  and  mine — are  to  be  sold  in  Stradovo 
or  Salonika.  Mazeppa,  too,"  she  added  half  to  herself — "  my 
own  Mazeppa. .  .  .  Niki's  successor  will  attend  to  that." 

"  Then  I  see  nothing  to  prevent .  .  ." 

"  Nothing  at  all.  I  thank  you,  Nikolai  Feodorovitch,  for 
your  kindness." 

"  Then  you  leave  to-morrow,  Ekaterina  Sergeievna  ?" 
asked  Count  Dolgoruki. 

"  Yes,  mama  expects  me.  And  I  am  longing  to  be  with  her 
at  Priluka  again." 

"  I  am  glad  you  are  going,  dear,"  said  Sonya.  "  Mama 
needs  to  have  one  of  us  near  her  now  that  she  is  alone.  And 
little  Sasha  will  hardly  be  able  to  come  this  year ;  he  is  with 
his  mother  in  Belgrade.  I  have  begged  mama  time  after 
time  to  come  and  stay  with  us,  but  she  will  not  leave  Priluka. 
It  is  the  only  place,  she  says,  where  there  is  room  for  her. 
Poor  mama — so  kind  she  always  was  to  all  of  us  1" 

Business  being  disposed  of,  Advocate  Mandelberg  retired, 
followed  shortly  after  by  Sonya  and  her  husband.  A  servant 
conducted  Katya  to  her  room. 

General  Karatayef  was  left  alone. 

He  sat  there  long,  his  bent  figure  crouching  in  a  chair,  with 
hands  folded  in  his  lap. 

Out  in  the  cemetery,  by  Anna  Dimitrievna's  side,  lay  his  and 
her  only  son.  They  were  at  rest.  But  for  him  rest  was  not 
yet;  he  must  still  bear  the  weary  burden  of  his  life  farther 
along  the  toilsome  road,  where  now  no  star  was  left  to  guide. 
His  wife  had  whispered  on  her  death-bed  that  God  had  for- 
given them,  for  the  sake  of  their  great  love.  But  she  knew 
not'  what  she  said.  "  Vengeance  is  mine,  saith  the  Lord  "; 
and  there  is  no  forgiveness  even  for  the  sin  that  is  born  of 
love. 

Gold  he  had  won,  and  given  his  son  the  daughter  of  a 
Prince  to  wife — opened  for  him  a  way  to  wealth  and  splendour. 
But  a  curse  had  rested  on  his  winning;  Niki  his  son  had  lived  a 
life  of  suffering,  to  die  by  a  murderer's  hand.  And  now,  at  the 


«62  KATYA 

last,  brought  home  to  burial  in  his  native  earth,  there  had  been 
but  cold,  unfeeling  ceremony  for  him,  while  she  who  in  his  peril 
and  his  pain  had  forsaken  him  was  welcomed  and  acclaimed. 
The  money  Russia  had  exacted  for  his  children  she  had  flung 
away  in  empty  arrogance,  a  piece  of  melodramatic  display, 
which  had  gained  her  the  cheap  favour  of  the  unseeing  mob. 
A  mourner  in  her  husband's  funeral  train,  she  had  let  herself  be 
greeted  as  a  national  heroine. 

The  General  shivered.  Nothing — not  a  kopek — should  she 
ever  have  from  him.  She  had  not  understood  what  Mandelberg 
had  said;  indeed,  she  had  scarcely  seemed  to  listen.  But  she 
would  soon  learn,  and  to  her  bitter  cost,  that  the  generous  stream 
which  hitherto  had  flowed  from  the  old  house  in  the  Konnaya 
was  stopped  for  her.  If  only  he  could  take  back  by  some 
means  what  he  had  given  in  that  unlucky  hour !  No,  let  her 
keep  it;  enough  to  give  her  freedom  for  her  fluttering  flight 
from  place  to  place,  that  she  might  in  her  own  pursuit  of 
homage  and  admiration  forget  to  call  her  children  to  her 
again,  .  t  , 

Sonya  had  helped  him,  with  her  quick  sympathy  and 
understanding,  when  he  had  fought,  with  fear  at  his  heart, 
for  right  to  keep  little  Anna  Nikolaievna,  And  Sergei  would 
have  a  mother  now ;  she  who  should  have  been  Niki's  wife 
would  be  a  mother  to  his  son.  Katya  thought  of  nothing 
but  Priluka;  it  would  be  long  before  she  came  to  live 
in  Odessa,  But  Anna  should  have  a  home — her  own  as  far 
as  it  might  be.  When  Miss  Warden  came  from  Stradovo  all 
the  old  things  should  be  installed  in  the  house,  and  there 
would  be  more  than  the  mahogany  cabinet  to  hold  dear 
memories. 

The  grave,  too,  should  be  cared  for,  though  Katya  were 
gone.  Anna  and  he  would  guard  and  cherish  it  until  the 
time  came  when  it  might  be  opened  at  last  for  himself.  He 
longed  for  the  rest  and  quiet  of  it,  weary  as  he  was  long  since 
of  the  toilsome  wandering  through  mire  and  thorns.  If  God 
would  call  him  soon,  and  be  merciful  to  one  who  had  sinned  for 
love.  .  .  . 

General  Karatayef  took  the  stick  that  stood  by  his  chair, 
and  rose  with  difficulty  to  his  feet.  Moving  carefully,  he  stole 
into  the  white-and-gold -walled  room  where  broidered  panels 
told  the  Joys  and  sorrows  of  a  little  girl. 


A  NATIONAL  HEROINE  263 

"  Is  that  you,  grandpapa  ?    I  heard  your  stick." 

"  Did  I  wake  you,  dear  ?  I'm  sorry.  I  only  came  to  kiss 
you  good-night/' 

"  I  am  so  glad  you  came,  grandpapa.  Wttl  you  sit  with  me 
a  little  ?" 

"  Sleep  now,  dear.  You  must  be  tired  after  all  these  sad 
days." 

The  child  lay  silent  for  a  moment,  looking  at  nothing. 

"  Grandpapa,"  she  said  at  last,  "  do  you  think  God  is  really 
there  ?" 

"  God  ?  Of  course  He  is,  my  child,  of  course.  But  do  not 
ask  me  such  things  now." 

"  I  wish  I  could  think  so." 

"  You  shall,  dear,  do  not  fear.  Now  that  I  have  you  with 
me  we  can  talk  together." 

"  I  asked  Him  nicely  in  a  prayer  from  you  and  me  to  take 
care  of  father,  and  next  day  Abbas  killed  him.  Grandpapa, 
why  would  He  not  hear  us  ?" 

"  I  cannot  say,  I  cannot  say,  my  darling."  He  stroked  her 
hair  and  cheek.  "  I  am  so  old — old  and  very  tired*  Perhaps 
God  has  forgotten  me.  Or  it  may  be  I  have  not  yet  been 
punished  for  my  sins,  Child,  we  will  pray,  and  hope  He  will 
forgive.  ..." 


CHAPTER  II 

KATYA'S  RESOURCES 

IN  the  park  about  Priluka  the  trees  were  bare.  One  morning, 
as  Katya  walked  through  the  grounds  down  by  the  lake,  she 
saw  there  a  thin  film  of  ice  among  the  rushes  by  the  shore. 
And  soon  the  snow  came — thick,  silent  flakes  in  an  untiring 
fall.  Mikailo  housed  the  carriages  and  began  to  overhaul 
the  sledges.  And  Tatiana  Feodorovna  moved  about  the 
empty  rooms,  making  such  changes  as  the  winter  called  for. 

Princess  Rilinski  never  left  her  chair,  save  to  be  helped  to 
bed.  Dimitri  wheeled  her  back  and  forth  between  the  bed- 
room and  the  boudoir  with  the  many  eikons,  the  dining-room, 
and  the  little  suite  that  had  been  Katya's  in  her  childhood. 
These  were  the  bounds  of  Anastasia  Grigorievna's  movings 
about  the  place;  beyond  them  she  never  came.  She  could 


264  KATYA 

still  pen  a  letter  now  and  again  to  one  or  other  of  her  children 
or  grandchildren,  or  to  old  friends  who  had  remained  faithful 
as  herself.  But  her  thin,  transparent  fingers  soon  grew  tired, 
and  the  letters  which  so  often  had  gladdened  those  far  away 
grew  ever  fewer  and  more  brief. 

"  Katya  dear,"  said  the  Princess  one  evening  to  her 
daughter,  "  you  do  not  know  how  glad  I  am  to  have  you  here. 
If  God  will,  you  shall  close  my  eyes  now  soon,  here  at  Priluka. 
No  one  of  them  all  has  loved  the  dear  place  as  you  and  I.  And 
therefore  I  have  made  it  yours  from  my  death  until  Sasha  is 
eighteen.  It  is  no  injustice  to  anyone;  Sonya  has  estates 
enough.  And  little  Sasha  will  be  glad  to  have  you  when  he 
takes  over  his  father's  place.  He  is  a  good  boy,  my  own 
Sasha's  son.  Can  you  see  how  wonderfully  he  is  like  his 
grandfather  ?" 

"  I  have  seen  so  little  of  him,  dear." 

"  Give  me  the  big  frame  with  all  his  pictures.  Thank  you, 
dear.  It  is  hard  to  be  unable  to  do  the  least  little  thing 
oneself,  and  it  wearies  me  to  have  Dimitri  or  Tanya  always 
about  me.  See  !" — Anastasia  Grigorievna  pointed  to  the 
latest  portrait  of  her  grandson — "  that  was  taken  specially 
for  me  in  Vienna  last  spring,  just  before  his  fourteenth  birth- 
day. Can't  you  see  that  boy  is  a  Rilinski  ?" 

"  Yes — and  yet  somehow  he  is  different.  .  ».  .  And  so 
much  is  changed  now  between  his  mother  and  me." 

"  All  is  changed,  Katya  dear,  as  we  two  know."  The 
Princess  was  silent  a  moment.  "  I  tell  you  what  it  is,  Katya, 
my  child,"  she  said  at  last,  with  a  smile  that  strove  to  be 
bright,  "  I  am  growing  horribly  selfish.  Sitting  here  all  day 
and  keeping  you  about  me  like  a  nurse,  as  though  you  had 
nothing  better  to  do.  Go  and  visit  Sonya  for  a  while  and  see 
your  own  children,  or  stay  with  your  father-in-law.  I've 
grown  to  like  him  more  and  more  these  last  years." 

"  Oh  no,  mama,  let  me  stay  here  with  you." 

"  But,  child,  you  see  no  one — the  doctor  from  Dubni  and 
myself,  and  not  a  soul  beyond.  Now  that  Vladimir  Shipagin 
has  gone  off  to  the  Riviera  we  don't  even  see  him.  I  know 
you  don't  care  for  him,  but,  after  ah1,  he  has  been  a  faithful 
friend.  And  I  was  touched  at  Maria  Petrovna's  coming,  too. 
She  seems  to  have  picked  up  a  little  since  Alexander  Aristido- 
v  itch  died." 


KATYA'S  RESOURCES  265 

"  Still,  Patkanovo  is  a  deadly  place,  and  always  will  be.  I 
shall  never  forget  that  journey  with  papa  .  .  .  and  then  the 
evening  after  we  returned.  ..." 

"  Nor  I,  dear.  I  can  see  you  now,  lying  sobbing  on  the 
sofa.  .  .  .  But  don't  let  us  talk  about  sad  times.  Patkanovo 
is  changed  for  the  better,  so  they  say;  and  no  wonder,  when 
one  thinks  how  fastidious  Vladimir  always  is.  Mikailo  says 
it  is  a  splendid  place." 

"  Vladimir  Alexandrovitch  has  always  been  a  parvenu, 
and  he  will  never  be  anything  else,  Niki  quite  lost  patience 
with  him  at  last,  with  his  eternal  snobbery  and  fashionable 
nonsense." 

"Well,  well,  we  are  not  likely  to  see  him  again  for  some 
time.  But  whom  can  we  ask  ?  Petya  can't  get  leave  just 
now.  And  Priluka's  not  the  sort  of  place  one  can  ask  people 
to  in  winter.  If  only  the  weather  were  a  little  milder — you 
must  be  longing  for  a  ride  now  that  you  have  got  your  dear 
Mazeppa  again." 

Katya  was  silent.  "  Englishmen  are  faithful,"  she  thought. 
When  Miss  Warden  and  Yussuf  had  arrived  in  Odessa  with 
the  household  goods  from  Stradovo,  the  kavass  had  come  out 
to  Priluka  bringing  with  him  Mazeppa,  and  pretending  not 
to  know  from  whom  it  came.  But  there  followed  a  letter 
from  George  Farringham,  as  delicately  noble  in  tone  as  that 
which  he  had  written  to  her  in  Paris  so  many  years  before. 

"  No,  mama,  you  are  right.  No  one  comes  to  Priluka  in 
the  winter.  With  the  exception  of  Petya,  I  know  but  one 
man  who  would  seek  me  here — or  wherever  I  might  be  in  the 
world." 

"  Who  is  it,  Katya  ?" 

"  George  Farringham." 

"  Now,  let  me  see  ...  who  was  it  that  was  so  kind  to  you 
and  helped  you  after  all  that  horrible  affair  ?  .  .  .  but  he  was  a 
Frenchman  .  .  .  Beaulieu,  Beaufort  ...  he  was  decorated  for 
his  services,  I  remember.  .  .  ," 

"  Papa  wrote  years  ago  asking  George  Farringham  to 
Priluka.  I  met  him  that  winter  in  Paris  at  Miliukin's." 

"  I  don't  remember.  Papa  was  always  glad  to  ask  any  of 
your  friends,  or  do  anything  else,  for  all  of  you." 

"  Farringham  was  with  us  at  Belgrade  and  Constantinople, 
and  afterwards  at  Stradovo.  He  is  British  Consul  there." 


266  KATYA 

"  And  you  think  he  would  care  to  come  here  now  ?  Can 
he  leave  his  post  when  he  likes  ?  Niki  never  could." 

"  If  we  wrote  and  asked  him — no,  not  I,  but  you,  mama — 
I  think  he  would  come." 

"  Is  he  married,  Katya  ?" 

"  No." 

"  Nor  ever  has  been  ?" 

"  No." 

"  And  he  met  you  in  Paris  when  you  were  seventeen  ?" 

"  Yes,  mama." 

Princess  Rilinski  stroked  her  daughter's  hand,  and  looked  in 
her  eyes.  After  a  moment  she  said : 

"  Write  his  name  on  an  envelope,  dear,  and  put  it  on  my 
table.  He  understands  French,  I  suppose  ?" 

"  Yes.  Thank  you,  mama;  you  are  always  good  and 
kind." 

During  the  first  month  after  the  happening  in  Stradovo 
Katya  was  overwhelmed  with  letters.  The  Armenians  in 
Trebizond  sent  her,  by  secret  means,  a  splendid  tapestry,  with 
slips  of  paper  sewn  in  the  corners  bearing  names  in  a  writing 
which  she  could  not  read.  A  Professor  of  History  at  the 
University  at  Kief  published  a  treatise  on  the  relations  of  the 
Rilinski  family  to  the  Slavs  of  the  Balkans  and  Ukraine.  A 
young  poet,  whose  name  was  already  famous,  wrote  a  long 
poem  to  Katya  with  the  title  "  Slava,  kneginya,  Slava !" 
the  different  parts  of  which  were  fashioned  in  masterly  imita- 
tion of  the  Servian  folk-songs  celebrating  the  deeds  of  past 
Rilinskis.  The  young  Slavs  of  Servia  sent  an  Address.  From 
the  supporters  of  Panslavism  in  Moscow  arrived  a  copy  in 
miniature  of  the  wonder-working  picture  of  the  Iberian 
Virgin,  framed  in  gold,  with  a  border  of  pearls.  Many  of 
Niki's  former  colleagues,  both  Russian  and  foreign,  sent 
letters  of  condolence  and  appreciation.  But  the  bulk  of  the 
correspondence  came  from  young  men,  and  especially  young 
women,  who  wrote  in  unbounded  enthusiasm,  often  signing 
themselves  by  their  Christian  names,  initials,  or  with  a  pseu- 
donym such  as  "  A  Slav  sister,"  "  Daughter  of  an  officer  who 
fell  at  Plevna,"  "  Girls  of  Tchernigof,"  etc. 

Katya  had  always  enjoyed  writing  letters,  and  possessed  a 
very  facile  pen,  whether   in  Russian  or  French.    Henri  de 


KATYA'S  RESOURCES  267 

Beaufort,  who  was  a  connoisseur  of  literature,  had  once  said 
that  if  "  the  Princess  "  ever  should  be  forced  to  earn  her 
own  living,  she  would  be  able  to  do  so  without  difficulty  by 
translating  Russian  works  into  French.  "  You  do  not  merely 
know  the  language,  madame,"  he  had  said,  "  but  you  have  a 
style  of  your  own,  a  thing  few  women  ever  attain."  Katya 
employed  her  talent  now.  She  sat  for  hours  at  her  writing- 
table,  and  filled  many  sheets  bearing  the  princely  crest  in  one 
corner.  The  occupation  served  her  as  a  substitute  for  the 
needlework  or  domestic  duties  with  which  other  women  pass 
their  time.  The  letters  that  she  received  fed  her  continual 
hunger  for  admiration,  her  need  of  feeling  herself  the  object 
of  others'  thoughts  and  feelings.  And  the  replies  she  wrote 
gave  her  an  opportunity  of  observing  herself  in  that  mental 
mirror  which  was  so  indispensable  to  her.  They  spoke  only 
of  herself,  giving  an  idealized  picture  of  the  Katya  she  thought 
she  ought  to  be,  and  really  believed  herself  to  be  while  she 
wrote.  Her  sorrow  was  inconsolable,  her  despair  beyond  all 
bounds.  She  exhausted  the  possibilities  of  language  in  praise 
of  Niki.  Her  own  actions  as  Niki's  wife  and  widow  she  wished 
judged  exclusively  from  a  political  point  of  view;  as  links  in 
a  carefully  planned  chain  of  conscious  development.  And 
Niki's  unfortunate  death  became,  in  her  reflection,  the  cause 
of  her  own  mental  and  bodily  collapse — a  disintegration  so 
complete  that  no  resurrection  ever  could  be  possible,  Her 
life  was  oven  "  You  cannot  imagine,  dear  friend,"  she  wrote 
to  de  Beaufort,  "  how  old  and  ugly  I  have  grown.  There  is 
no  room  for  me  anywhere  on  earth  save  in  the  cemetery  by 
Niki's  side."  Or,  as  she  put  it  in  her  letter  of  thanks  to  the 
author  of  the  "  Slava  "  poem;  "  The  refrain  in  the  third  part, 
the  peasants'  repeated — 

•  Born  a  Rilinski,  she  suffered  and  strove  as  a  Slav,' — 

touched  me  deeply.  I  have  no  dearer  wish  than  that  my 
poor  remains  may  soon  lie  silent  and  at  peace  beneath  a  stone 
on  which  these  beautiful  words  are  graven  deep."  All  this 
she  wrote  in  the  little  room  in  the  right  wing  of  Priluka,  where 
once  she  had  blacked  Petrushka's  plumage  and  wept  over  the 
cruelty  of  the  world.  Even  now  she  shed  many  tears  over 
the  letters — they  were  so  very  sorrowful.  And  the  mark  of  a 


268  KATYA 

tear  on  the  paper  was  no  blemish  after  all.  Nor  was  there 
any  need  to  hide  her  feelings  here  at  Priluka,  since  there  was 
no  one  to  see — no  one  to  climb  the  pillars  to  her  balcony; 
no  one  to  knock  at  her  door  with  beating  heart  anxious  for 
her  fate.  It  was  true,  every  word  of  all  she  wrote — she  was 
alone  and  forsaken. 

But  as  the  summer  went  on  the  letters  to  Katya  became 
fewer.  With  the  coming  of  winter  quiet  fell  upon  the  troubled 
Balkans.  Nikolai  Karatayef 's  death  and  the  events  connected 
with  it  fell  into  oblivion;  the  interest  of  the  nation  was  con- 
centrated upon  the  Far  East,  where  the  progress  of  events 
was  clearly  leading  to  an  unavoidable  breach  with  Japan. 
Katya  was  forgotten.  The  letters  ceased.  One  only  of  them 
all  wrote  to  her  still — George  Farringham  in  Stradovo. 
Miliukin's  policy  had  made  no  difference  to  him. 

It  was  getting  near  Christmas  when  Farringham  wrote  in 
reply  to  Princess  Rilinski's  invitation,  which,  he  stated,  he 
would  be  delighted  to  accept  as  soon  as  circumstances  per- 
mitted. At  the  same  time  he  wrote  a  long  letter  to  Katya. 

Katya  had  called  him,  and  he  would  come.  There  were 
difficulties  in  the  way.  His  application  for  leave  had  been 
met  with  the  discouraging  reply  that  there  could  be  no  ques- 
tion of  this  before  the  following  autumn.  His  uncle,  the  Earl, 
had  declined  to  strain  further  such  influence  as  he  possessed 
in  supporting  his  nephew's  inexplicable  whims.  But  Far- 
ringham was  not  to  be  lightly  checked.  He  formulated  a  sort 
of  unofficial  ultimatum  to  the  effect  that  failing  six  months' 
leave  with  subsequent  transference  to  another  post  he  would 
send  in  his  resignation.  Both  his  uncle  and  the  Ambassador 
did  their  utmost  to  dissuade  him  from  such  a  step.  Their 
interference,  however,  while  delaying  somewhat  the  realization 
of  his  plans,  failed  to  weaken  his  resolution.  Katya  had 
called  him,  and  he  would  come. 

Farringham's  letter  was  a  gleam  of  light  in  the  winter  dark. 
And  with  Mazeppa — his  Mazeppa — Katya  found  means  to 
pass  the  time  most  pleasantly;  the  sledge  that  brought  the 
daily  post  to  and  fro  between  Dubni  and  Priluka  carried  few 
letters  now  from  Katya's  room  in  the  right  wing  of  the  house. 
Farringham  was  right — him  one  could  trust,  at  least.  He 
was  ready  to  cast  everything  aside  for  her  sake.  But  she 
would  reward  him  royally;  she  had  done  so  already  by  con- 


KATYA'S  RESOURCES  269 

fessing  that  she  longed  impatiently  to  see  him  again.  And 
as  she  flew  over  the  hard  white  fields  and  roads,  wrapped  in 
her  furs  against  the  biting  cold,  there  was  a  voice  in  her  that 
sang  triumphantly.  She  was  no  longer  alone  and  forsaken ;  the 
cruel,  evil  shadows  that  had  haunted  her  were  dispersed;  no 
one  could  say  now  that  it  was  all  too  late.  So  she  came  home 
from  her  long,  solitary  rides  with  flushed  cheeks  and  sparkling 
eyes,  and  frost  all  white  in  the  waves  of  her  hair. 

"  My  child,  you  are  white  all  over  1"  exclaimed  Princess 
Rilinski,  smiling  happily  as  her  daughter  entered. 

"  That  does  no  harm,  mama.  It  will  be  gone  in  a 
moment.  Do  you  remember  when  I  dyed  Petrushka  black  ? 
That  colour  lasted  longer  1" 

A  month  passed,  however,  and  another,  and  still  Farring- 
ham  had  not  arrived.  In  face  of  the  well-meaning  opposition 
of  his  uncle  and  the  Ambassador  it  was  impossible  for  him  to 
leave  without  an  open  and  irreparable  breach  with  both. 
"  Were  it  not  for  the  pension,"  he  wrote,  "  which  I  can  scarcely 
afford  to  lose,  I  would  throw  up  the  whole  thing,  and  simply 
leave."  And  every  word  that  told  of  his  impatience  found 
echo  in  Katya's  mind.  "  It  is  sheer  brutality  to  keep  me 
herein  this  miserable  place,  where  everything  is  dull  and  dead 
now  '  the  Princess '  has  gone.  I  have  obtained  certificates 
from  Servian,  Greek,  and  Turkish  doctors  stating  that  my 
health  is  already  undermined,  and  will  not  stand  another 
winter  here.  But  all  to  no  purpose.  As  long  as  one  is  not  a 
walking  skeleton  they  do  not  care." 

At  the  time  when  these  letters  reached  Priluka  the  effects 
of  Vasili  Miliukin's  policy  were  beginning  to  make  themselves 
apparent.  The  long-threatened  war  with  Japan  broke  out, 
and  soon  messages  began  to  arrive  from  the  Far  East  with 
news  of  repeated  loss  and  disaster.  Petya  Or  1  off  wrote  to 
the  Princess;  he  feared  there  was  but  little  chance  of  his 
coming  to  Priluka  for  the  present,  although  he  longed  now 
more  than  ever  to  see  his  former  home  again.  Together  with 
a  number  of  other  officers  of  the  Black  Sea  Squadron,  he  had 
been  ordered  to  take  part  in  the  equipment  of  the  great  fleet 
that  would  shortly,  in  all  probability,  be  sent  from  the  Baltic 
to  the  Far  East.  It  was  not  yet  decided  whether  he  was  to 
go  with  the  fleet  or  not.  "  It  is  not  unlikely,"  he  wrote, 
"  since  they  have  taken  me  from  the  Admiral  Orloff.  I  hope, 


270  KATYA 

however,  that  it  may  not  be  the  ease,  as  otherwise  it  may  be 
years  before  I  see  Priluka  again," 

"  Poor,  dear  Petya,"  said  the  Princess  with  a  sigh.  And 
Katya  murmured  sympathetically:  "Yes,  I  am  sorry:  also 
for  your  sake,  dear."  Her  own  thoughts  were  far  away. 

Mandelberg  had  written  several  times,  earnestly  advising 
Katya  to  go  to  St.  Petersburg  in  person  in  order  to  obtain  a 
settlement  in  the  matter  of  the  pension,which  was  still  un- 
decided. But  the  letters  remained  unanswered.  Katya  found 
all  these  business  affairs  a  bore.  At  last  General  Karatayef 
himself  took  up  the  matter,  and  wrote  to  the  Princess,  pointing 
out  that  not  only  Katya's  own  future,  but  a-lso  that  of  her 
children,  were  seriously  concerned. 

"  I  must  admit  the  General  is  right,"  said  the  Princess  to 
her  daughter,  "  You  should  go,  my  dear,  I  have  managed 
alone  before,  with  Tanya  and  Dimitri  ;  you  need  have  no 
anxiety  on  my  account.  And  I  am  feeling  ever  so  much  better 
of  late." 

Katya  turned  away  to  hide  a  blush  of  genuine  shame. 
She  loved  her  mother  dearly,  honestly,  but  her  reluctance  to 
leave  Priluka  was  now  due  entirely  to  the  fact  that  she  was 
expecting  someone  else — longing  for  him  to  come.  Each  day 
was  precious,  From  the  first  snowfall  she  had  been  ready  and 
Waiting  to  receive  him,  her  friend,  her  faithful  page,  who 
would  follow  and  find  her  wherever  she  might  be  in  all  the 
world, 

"  Very  well,  mama,  I  will  go.  And  I  will  see  Miliukin 
myself  if  you  think  it  is  best.  It  need  not  take  long.  .  ,  ." 

"That  is  right,  dear;  I  knew  you  would,  I  will  write  to 
Kleopatra  Georgievna  and  ask  her  to  prepare  her  husband  for 
your  visit.  ,  ,  ," 

"  But  I  can't  stay  with  them,  mama  I  I  have  had  quite 
enough  of  that  house." 

"  Do  as  you  please,  my  dear." 

"  And,  mama,  if  any  letters — or  telegrams — come  for  me 
while  I  am  away,  will  you  remember  to  send  them  on  at  once  ?" 

"  Certainly,  dear.  But  you  need  only  let  Sonya  and  Miss 
Warden  have  your  address  before  you  leave,  and  then  the 
children's  letters  can  be  sent  to  you  direct^" 

"  Yes,  yes,  of  course.  But  there  might  come  letters  or 
things  from  others  besides  them." 


KATYA'S  RESOURCES  271 

"  I  will  send  on  everything  that  comes,  dear,  never  fear," 

So  Katya  went  to  St.  Petersburg  and  stayed  at  an  hotel. 
The  first  of  her  many  visits  was  to  Madame  Miliukin.  As 
soon  as  she  had  given  her  name  to  the  servant  she  could  not 
help  asking  whether  Duparc  had  accompanied  the  family 
from  Paris.  To  her  great  relief  she  learned  that  no  one  of 
that  name  belonged  to  the  household  at  present. 

Kleopatra  Georgievna  received  her  with  the  cordial  kind- 
ness of  an  old  friend. 

"  I  am  so  glad  to  see  you  again,  Katya  dear.  I  have  not 
seen  you  since  we  met  at  Priluka,  at  Sonya's  wedding.  And 
all  that  you  have  gone  through  since  then,  my  poor  child  1 
But,  thank  Heaven,  you  look  as  young  and  well  as  ever." 

"  Do  not  say  that,  I  beg  of  you.  I  have  grown  old;  my 
life  is  ended  now,  .  .  ." 

"  Well,  well,  I  can  understand  that  you  must  feel  it  so. 
But  time,  you  know,  is  a  wonderful  healer.  Look  at  Elisa- 
veta.  She  loved  your  brother,  and  his  death  left  her  as 
inconsolable  as  yourself.  And  yet  her  second  marriage  is  at 
least  as  happy  as  the  first.  I  must  say,  Hohenstein  is  a  perfect 
husband ;  you  will  like  him,  my  dear.  Not  only  is  he  as  kind 
to  little  Sasha  as  to  his  own  children ;  he  cares  even  more  for 
Sasha;  at  any  rate,  so  it  seems,  I  am  very  fond  of  Hohen- 
stein; the  only  thing  I  have  against  him  is  his  profession. 
You  know,  I  warned  you  all  years  ago  to  avoid  diplomacy 
like  the  plague,  If  only  you  had  listened  to  me  in  time  1" 

"  Mama  hears  regularly  from  little  Sasha.  I  think  of  all 
her  grandchildren  he  is  her  favourite." 

"  And  mine  too.  He  is  a  splendid  boy,  and  of  your  blood, 
Katya — a  Rilinski,  every  inch  of  him.  Priluka  will  not  be 
without  an  heir." 

It  cut  Katya  to  the  heart  every  time  she  heard  anyone 
speak  of  this  stranger  child,  who  year  by  year  came  nearer 
to  Priluka,  and  who  at  last  would  take  it  from  her,  wiping  out 
all  trace  of  her  dominion.  What  did  he  know  of  that  white 
palace  and  its  splendid  days  long  past  ?  He  had  not  wit- 
nessed, never  even  heard  of,  Katya's  victorious  campaigns. 
He  lived  in  a  foreign  land,  far  from  Priluka  and  Ukraine  and 
all  their  memories.  And  in  her  heart  she  whispered  eagerly, 
anxiously,  to  Farringham  to  come  before  it  was  too  late. 

"  And  now  you  will  want  to  talk  to  Vasili  Pavlovitch  about 


272  KATYA 

the  pension  business,"  went  on  Madame  Miliukin.  "  Your 
mother  wrote  to  me,  and  I  have  spoken  to  him  about  it. 
Just  tell  him  yourself  what  you  want  to  say.  I  think  I  can 
promise  you  that  everything  possible  will  be  done,  though 
this  wretched  war  is  making  things  difficult  for  us  all." 

"  I  should  prefer  not  to  call  on  Vasili  Pavlovitch  at  the 
Ministry.  ,  .  ." 

"  Of  course,  my  dear,  I  understand;  and  it  would  be  little 
good  if  you  did;  you  might  wait  there  for  days  without 
getting  any  farther.  I  will  send  you  word  to  let  you  know 
what  time  best  suits  Vasili  Pavlovitch  to  see  you  here.  You 
are  still  in  mourning,  of  course,  so  I  will  not  ask  you  to  parties 
or  anything  here.  And  you  know  we  are  never  alone.  I  tell 
you,  my  dear,  except  when  travelling,  I  have  not  dined  alone 
with  my  husband  for  thirty  years  1" 

Madame  Miliukin  kept  her  promise.  Katya  was  invited 
to  lunch,  where  the  guests  numbered  not  more  than  half  a 
score.  Shortly  after  the  conclusion  of  the  meal  Miliukin 
retired,  and  a  servant  informed  Katya  that  the  Minister 
awaited  her  in  his  study. 

"Sic  down,  if  you  please,  Ekaterina  Sergei evna.  The 
Princess,  your  mother,  has  advised  me  of  the  reason  for 
your  visit  to  St.  Petersburg;  my  wife  has  also  spoken  to  me 
about  it.  I  have  had  the  matter  looked  into,  and  am  now 
in  a  position  to  inform  you  that  the  Ministry  is  willing  to 
support  your  application  to  the  administration  of  the  Imperial 
Bounty  for  an  augmentation  of  your  pension,  bringing  it  up 
to  a  total  of  nine  thousand  roubles.  One-third  of  the  addi- 
tional amount  conceded  is  to  be  regarded  as  a  personal  annuity 
to  yourself,  payable  as  long  as  you  remain  unmarried.  The 
remaining  two-thirds  are  your  children's,  and  will  be  paid  to 
you  until  your  son  completes  his  twenty-first  year,  when  the 
amount  falling  to  his  share  will  be  withdrawn ;  your  daughter's 
third  part  is  payable  until  her  marriage  or  the  completion  of 
her  twenty-first  year.  Your  application  will  have  to  be 
formulated  in  accordance  with  these  conditions,  and  will  be 
sent  in  through  the  Ministry  for  Foreign  Affairs.  I  will  have 
it  made  out  in  due  form,  so  that  you  will  only  require  to  sign 
your  name." 

"  I  thank  you,  Vasili  Pavlovitch.  And  that  is  all  you  have 
to  say  to  me  ?" 


KATYA'S  RESOURCES  273 

The  Minister  looked  at  her,  somewhat  astonished,  and 
stroked  his  long  white  beard.  "  Yes,  that  is  all.  I  am  glad 
to  have  been  able  to  do  something  for  our  dear  Sasha's  sister." 

"  Not  a  word  of  Niki,  who  died  like  a  hero.  .  .  ." 

"  As  far  as  I  am  aware,  there  has  been  no  neglect  on  the 
part  of  the  State  in  connection  with  Nikolai  Nikolaievitch's 
unfortunate  death.  For  myself,  I  sent  you  on  the  same  day 
an  assurance  of  my  deepest  sympathy.  .  .  ." 

"  Unfortunate  death  !    Is  that  what  you  call  it  ?" 

"  Believe  me,  Ekaterina  Sergeievna,  I  have  tried  to  avoid 
any  word  or  action  which  could  possibly  wound  or  distress 
you.  Indeed,  the  opposite  has  been  the  case,  as  you  may 
judge  from  the  way  in  which  I  have  arranged  the  matter  of 
the  pension.  .  .  ." 

"  Will  you  answer  me  honestly,  Vasili  Pavlovitch — what 
have  you  to  reproach  my  husband  with  ?" 

"  No,  Ekaterina  Sergeievna,  that  question  I  will  not 
answer.  In  the  first  place,  I  do  not  remember  all  the  details 
of  the  occurrence;  it  is  nearly  a  year  ago,  and  I  have  had 
many  weighty  matters  to  occupy  my  mind  since  then.  Nor 
could  I,  as  an  old  friend  of  your  family,  make  any  accusation 
against  your  dead  husband.  You  must  forgive  me  if  I 
decline  to  answer."  He  rose,  pushing  back  his  chair.  "  If 
I  can  be  of  any  assistance  to  you  or  yours,  Ekaterina  Sergei- 
evna, I  shall  be  very  happy.  I  have  not  forgotten  the 
pleasure  which  it  was  to  us  all  to  have  la  charmante  petite 
Rilinski  with  us  during  that  year  in  Paris." 

She  sent  him  an  angry  glance:  the  mention  of  la  petite 
Rilinski  aggravated  her  beyond  the  rest.  With  haughty 
coolness  she  took  her  leave;  Miliukin  stood  looking  after  her  a 
moment,  somewhat  at  a  loss  to  understand  her  manner.  He 
recollected  vaguely  that  Korenof  had  been  extremely  dis- 
pleased with  both  herself  and  her  husband.  .  .  .  Then, 
dismissing  the  affair  from  his  mind,  the  Minister  hurried 
down  to  the  waiting  carriage,  which  bore  him  off  to  matters 
of  far  greater  moment  than  Ekaterina  Sergeievna  and  her 
troubles. 

Wherever  Katya  went  in  St.  Petersburg  she  encountered 
the  same  reception  as  at  Miliukin's.  People  were  kind  and 
sympathetic,  but  their  minds  were  full  of  the  present  war, 
and  there  was  little  room  for  recollection  of  a  year-old  happen- 

18 


274  KATYA 

ing  somewhere  in  the  Balkans.  At  the  Dolgorukis  she  was 
kindly  received;  the  old  Dowager  talked  to  her  all  through 
one  evening  of  her  irreparable  loss  and  the  unsympathetic 
world.  And  as  she  rose  to  leave,  "  Vera  Nadeshda  "  took  her 
hi  her  arms,  and  whispered  the  name  of  a  convent  which 
would  always  be  ready  to  receive  her,  and  offer  comfort, 
peace,  and  rest.  "  You  are  right,  Vera  Mikailovna," 
answered  Katya  gently;  "  I  should  have  sought  that  refuge 
long  ago."  And  for  the  moment  Katya  really  believed  she 
meant  what  she  said. 

When  she  reached  the  hotel,  however,  she  found  a  parcel 
of  letters  from  Priluka,  including  one  from  George  Farr ing- 
ham.  His  resignation  had  been  accepted  at  last,  and  his 
successor  had  arrived  at  Stradovo.  He  was  leaving  at  once, 
by  way  of  Belgrade  and  Budapesth;  in  a  week  he  would  be 
at  Priluka. 

"  At  last !"  Katya  hastened  through  the  list  of  her  re- 
maining visits,  wrote  to  her  mother,  to  Mandelberg,  and  to 
General  Karatayef,  stating  that  the  matter  of  the  pension 
was  now  in  order,  and  hurried  home  to  receive  the  welcome 
of  the  coming  spring. 

At  Kief  she  made  a  pilgrimage  to  the  hill  of  St.  Vladimir, 
where  many  a  bird  of  passage  on  its  way  across  Ukraine  falls, 
broken-winged,  beneath  the  lighted  cross. 


CHAPTER  III 

A    LOSING    GAME 

THE  year  of  mourning  was  over;  touches  of  colour  appeared 
in  Katya's  dress.  Priluka  had  once  more  a  mistress :  Tatiana 
Feodorovna  could  not  remember  any  summer  during  the 
reign  of  Prince  Sergei  where  there  had  been  so  much  to  do. 
Stephan,  the  cook,  found  it  necessary  to  reinforce  his  staff 
up  to  thrice  its  normal  strength,  and  even  so  it  happened  now 
and  then  that  the  Princess  was  not  entirely  satisfied  with  the 
result  of  his  efforts.  This,  however,  astonished  him  not  in 
the  least ;  for  there  was  still  Petrushka  at  Priluka— Petrushka, 
aged,  unnaturally  green,  and  knowing  the  speech  of  men. 
Mikailo  toiled  untiringly  from  morning  until  night;  his  hair 


A  LOSING  GAME  275 

and  beard  were  long  since  grey,  but  his  song  rang  out  as  young 
as  ever  through  the  park  at  sunset. 

Sonya  and  her  husband  had  arrived  with  their  two  chil- 
dren; Miss  Warden  had  brought  Sergei  and  little  Anna. 
Sasha,  the  Prince  to  be,  made  solemn  entry  with  a  Russian 
Governor  and  an  Austrian  valet.  Vladimir  Shipagin  was 
installed  in  his  old  room,  and  held  meetings  in  the  "  Club  " 
with  Gavril  Ivanovitch  and  Farringham.  Elena  Dolgoruki 
forgot  somewhat  her  dignity,  and  sighed  just  as  of  old  when 
Shipagin  greeted  her  with  his  blase  smile  and  the  eternal 
"  Rather  tired,  y'know,  Elena  Ivanovna." 

The  only  absentee  was  Petya  Orloff,  who  was  on  service 
now  in  one,  now  in  another,  of  the  Baltic  ports,  with  the 
possibility  ever  before  him  of  being  ordered  to  accompany 
the  fleet  to  the  Far  East. 

Nearly  every  morning  Farringham  might  be  seen  wheeling 
the  Princess's  chair  about  the  park.  During  the  days  of 
spring,  when  he  and  Katya  had  been  alone  at  Priluka,  the 
Princess  had  seen  but  little  of  him ;  Katya  was  busy  showing 
him  the  place,  taking  him  for  long  walks  and  rides  which  kept 
the  pair  absent  half  the  day.  But  now,  with  the  house  full 
of  guests,  she  had  neither  time  nor  freedom  to  occupy  herself 
with  him  alone.  He  was  always  welcome  to  take  part  in 
expeditions  and  amusements  with  the  others,  the  games  and 
pastimes  which  she  organized  for  her  friends  and  the  children ; 
in  particular,  she  desired  his  presence  whenever  the  conversa- 
tion chanced  to  turn  upon  the  happenings  of  her  own  life. 
He  was  her  witness  on  such  occasions;  time  after  time  she 
would  interrupt  her  telling,  and  turn  to  him  with  a  "  Do  you 
remember?"  or  craving  his  support  in  the  third  person: 
"  Farringham  will  tell  you;  he  was  there  at  the  time."  His 
task  it  was  also  to  lead,  when  possible,  the  talk  upon  such 
subjects  as  interested  her — above  all,  the  Great  Day  of  Dis- 
tress in  Stradovo.  She  did  not  spare  him.  Many  times  in 
the  quiet  spring  when  they  had  been  together  he  had  begged 
her  not  ceaselessly  to  conjure  the  shadow  of  dead  Niki  to 
stand  between  them;  surrounded  as  she  now  was  by  an 
atmosphere  in  which  his  memory  was  ever  fresh,  she  could 
not  refrain.  Of  those  about  her  not  one  but  had  known  him 
well;  her  mother,  Sonya,  Elena,  and  Vladimir  Shipagin; 
Sasha's  son,  and  her  own — his  own  children;  what  wonder, 


276  KATYA 

then,  that  her  thoughts  were  continually  turning  upon  Niki — 
Niki  the  hero;  her  own  strong,  splendid  Niki — whom  a  cruel 
fate  had  torn  from  her.  There  were,  again,  moments  when 
her  sorrow  was  inconsolable.  On  a  portrait  of  Niki  which  she 
gave  Shipagin  she  wrote :  "  Never  forget  him.  That  is  all  that 
I  ask  for  myself."  Her  always  variable  moods  rang  changes 
now  more  sudden  and  more  violent  than  ever.  One  moment 
she  would  be  striving,  in  delicious  civil  war,  to  hold  back  tears 
whose  welling  was  a  joy;  the  next  might  see  her  shouting 
gleefully  at  the  head  of  a  gay  flock  that  tore  down  the  slope 
of  the  lawn  to  reach  the  boat,  and  row  across  the  lake  in 
search  of  mushrooms  on  the  other  side. 

Princess  Rilinski  would  have  been  left  to  herself  entirely 
had  not  Farringham  and  Sonya  tacitly  agreed  to  relieve  each 
other  at  her  side.  The  morning  was  Farringham's  watch; 
Dimitri  had  so  much  to  do  in  summer  that  he  could  rarely  find 
time  to  spare  from  his  regular  duties ;  moreover,  the  Princess 
showed  distinctly  that  she  found  pleasure  in  the  society  of 
her  English  guest. 

"  You  have  helped  us  through  a  difficult  time,  Mr.  Farring- 
ham," she  said  to  him.  "  Both  my  daughter  and  myself  are 
deeply  grateful  to  you;  I  only  hope  that  you  have  not  been 
sacrificing  your  time.  I  am  sorry  Sergei  Arkadievitch  did 
not  live  to  see  you  here;  he  would  have  been  as  happy  to 
know  you  as  we  all  are." 

The  Princess  told  Farringham  much  of  Katya's  childhood 
and  early  youth ;  she  could  not  have  found  a  more  sympathetic 
listener.  She  made  him  acquainted  with  the  family's  relation 
to  such  friends  and  kin  as  were  of  the  party,  as  well  as  the 
absent  ones,  whose  names  he  was  continually  hearing,  until 
at  last  he  seemed  to  personally  know  them  all — Petya  Orloff, 
General  Karatayef,  Miliukin,  and  the  rest.  She  inquired 
also  with  discreet  but  sympathetic  interest  as  to  Farringham's 
parents,  long  since  dead,  and  the  uncle  who  had  been  a  father 
to  him  for  many  years. 

"  We  Russians  know  so  little  of  England,"  she  said.  "  My 
husband  and  I  have  been  in  France,  in  Switzerland,  and  Italy; 
but  it  never  occurred  to  us  that  we  ought  also  to  see  London. 
I  should  be  very  sorry  to  say  anything  which  could  possibly 
offend  you,  Mr.  Farringham,  but  it  does  seem  horrible  to  us 
that  your  country  should  have  ma<?e  alliance  with  those 


A  LOSING  GAME  277 

wretched  heathen  Japanese.  Even  if  there  had  never  been 
any  war  between  us  and  them,  it  would  still  seem  incompre- 
hensible to  us.  Katya  is  often  hasty,  and  is  apt  to  speak 
too  openly,  perhaps,  of  Miliukin  and  his  policy.  But  I  must 
admit  I  agree  with  her  when  she  says  that  we  ought  to  have 
Europe  on  our  side  now,  and  not  against  us." 

Farringham  spoke  freely  to  the  Princess  of  his  plans,  and 
sought  her  support.  Katya  had  already  promised  to  be  his 
wife;  she  had  accepted  him  in  the  spring,  but  on  condition 
that  the  wedding  should  not  take  place  until  after  the  expira- 
tion of  her  year  of  mourning  and  his  own  visit  to  England, 
where  he  would  have  to  arrange  matters  with  his  uncle. 
Farringham  wished  the  engagement  to  be  declared  at  once, 
so  that  his  relation  to  her  might  be  clear  to  the  remainder  of 
the  family  and  their  guests.  He  felt  it  something  of  a  false 
position  to  move  among  the  party  as  a  stranger,  when  all  had 
beyond  doubt  long  since  guessed  the  true  state  of  affairs. 
And,  more,  he  longed  openly  to  take  possession  of  the  woman 
he  had  won.  His  patient  affection,  which  he  had  endured  so 
long,  grew  with  the  daily  intercourse  to  a  thirsting  passion, 
and  he  suffered  under  a  delay  which  was  no  longer  necessary. 

Katya,  however,  was  reluctant  to  take  any  decisive  step; 
time  after  time  she  postponed  and  bade  him  wait.  She  had 
given  him  her  promise  when  they  had  been  alone  at  Priluka, 
and  she  had  felt  glad  to  do  so.  But  now  she  was  no  longer 
alone.  The  brilliant  summer  had  surrounded  her  anew  with 
a  court  of  faithful  pages  whom  she  could  command,  and  who 
acknowledged  her  supremacy.  Her  youth  returned,  and  with 
it  an  intoxicating  feeling  of  freedom.  The  springs  of  power 
and  courage  in  herself,  which  had  been  as  frozen  in  the  winter 
cold,  welled  forth  again  with  new,  triumphant  life.  Often, 
as  she  lay  alone  in  her  room  at  night,  the  thought  of  her  new- 
found independence  filled  her  with  delight.  Men  were  so  slow, 
so  horribly  slow.  .  .  .  Why  could  not  George  understand 
that  she  felt  otherwise  now  than  she  had  done  three  months 
ago  !  He  was  faithful  and  good ;  him  she  would  have,  and  no 
other.  And  she  would  keep  her  promise  to  him — yes — only 
not  now;  later,  when  there  was  time. 

Farringham  suggested  that  he  should  return  to  England, 
and  arrange  his  affairs  meanwhile  in  such  a  manner  as  would 
enable  him  to  offer  Katya  a  home  fitted  to  her  habits  ana  her 


278  KATYA 

taste.  But  she  could  not  spare  him  just  now.  There  was  no 
hurry.  Much  better  give  his  uncle's  immediate  anger  time 
to  cool.  And  then  all  these  dull,  practical  questions  bored 
her.  Was  there  anything  so  uninteresting  as  money  ?  She  had 
enough  herself  for  both,  if  need  should  be,  even  if  she  never  got 
the  stupid  pension,  which  was  not  yet  granted,  and  had  to 
provide  for  her  children  herself.  Farringham's  objections  were 
carelessly  waved  aside.  Why  trouble  about  such  things  ? 
What  did  it  matter  as  long  as  they  really  cared  for  each  other  ? 

But  when  her  lover  pressed  her  to  end  the  delay  and  marry 
him  while  yet  it  was  summer,  she  changed  front,  and  recog- 
nized suddenly  the  weight  of  those  objections  she  had  before 
made  light  of.  It  was  absolutely  necessary  that  Farringham 
should  arrange  his  affairs  first,  and  reinstate  himself  in  his 
uncle's  favour;  it  would  never  do  to  go  to  the  old  gentleman 
with  the  marriage  a  fait  accompli  ;  his  consent  must  first  be 
obtained.  It  would  even  be  advisable  for  George  to  introduce 
his  future  bride.  There  was  also  the  question  of  the  difference 
of  nationality  and  religion;  there  was  the  settlement  for  the 
children — who  as  yet  knew  nothing  of  their  mother's  inten- 
tions— and  then  there  was  General  Karatayef;  Katya  was 
not  at  all  looking  forward  to  that  interview.  In  a  word, 
there  were  any  amount  of  dull  things  that  must  be  arranged 
and  settled  beforehand,  and  really,  George  could  not  expect  her 
to  worry  about  them  now.  Was  he  not  glad  to  live  here  by  her 
side  at  beautiful  Priluka  ?  Was  he  disappointed  at  her  home, 
herself  ?  Did  he  not  find  her  all  that  he  had  dreamed — his 
little  Cossack  in  her  own  wild  land  ? 

"  Wait  until  autumn,  George,  or  winter,  when  you  have 
been  home.  I  will  come  on  after,  and  fascinate  the  stern  old 
Earl,  and  then  we  can  be  married  in  the  spring,  quite  quietly, 
at  the  little  church  in  Dubni.  Perhaps  your  uncle  or  your 
cousin  might  come  over — what  do  you  say  ?  I  shall  have 
Sonya  and  her  husband,  and  of  course  mama.  And  then 
we  will  stay  on  at  Priluka  together  as  long  as  we  can — as  long 
as  it  is  still  mine." 

His  pleadings  availed  him  nothing.  She  had  decided,  and 
his  continued  attempts  at  persuasion  elicited  signs  of  some- 
thing very  like  impatience.  She  exhibited  also  the  same  ill- 
concealed  displeasure  when  he  entreated  her  not  to  remind 
him  ceaselessly  of  Niki.  Nothing  was  more  distasteful  to 


A  LOSING  GAME  279 

Farringham  than  this  awakening  of  a  memory  which  stood 
between  them — separated  them.  Their  disagreement  upon 
this  point  was  intense.  Katya  foresaw,  beyond  this  present 
claim,  that  once  she  became  his,  he  would  demand  of  her  to 
wipe  out  of  all  recollection  the  sixteen  years  of  her  married 
life  with  Niki,  and  this  for  her  was  sacrilege.  Here  at  Priluka, 
above  all,  where  he  one  summer  had  won  her  heart  and  saved 
all  those  she  loved  from  ruin  and  bitter  sorrow — it  was  not 
for  Farringham,  a  stranger,  to  seek  with  masculine  jealousy 
to  erase  the  memories  that  were  the  dearest  possession  of  her 
soul.  Other  and  later  impressions  there  were  also,  especially 
from  the  evening  before  Niki's  death,  which  were  too  recent 
and  too  deeply  graved  to  be  obliterated  by  that  other  feeling 
she  had  for  Farringham — a  feeling  which,  old  and  proved  as 
it  was,  seemed  yet  so  greatly  different.  Farringham  was  no 
longer  her  faithful,  chivalrous  adorer,  but  an  impatient  lover. 
She  herself,  however,  was  unchanged;  she  could  not  endure 
to  think  that  her  promise  to  give  him  her  future  should  rob 
her  of  the  right  to  her  own  past.  Moreover,  she  saw  herself 
always  as  one  of  the  principal  characters  in  the  drama  which 
bore  Niki's  name.  How  could  she  suddenly  resign  her  part, 
or  play  it  otherwise  than  Nature  demanded  ?  Men  were  so 
stupid,  always  wanting  things  explained,  as  in  big  books,  with 
heavy  words,  as  papa  used  to  talk.  .  .  . 

Farringham,  however,  on  his  part,  understood  her  better 
than  she  imagined.  He  knew  that  it  must  be  a  sacrifice  for 
her  to  lay  aside  her  position  as  Nikolai  Karatayef's  widow, 
especially  here  at  Priluka.  But  he  demanded  just  this  sacri- 
fice, as  earnest  of  the  depth  of  her  affection  for  himself.  She 
would  not  make  it.  The  summer  passed,  and  Farringham 
felt  that  he  was  in  reality  no  farther  than  he  had  been  in 
Stradovo.  There  were  times  when  he  felt  inclined  to  leave 
it  all  and  go  away — anywhere  away  from  this  recurrent  torture 
of  desire  and  disappointment.  But  Katya  was  always  ready 
at  the  critical  moment  with  a  smile,  a  pressure  of  the  hand,  a 
stolen  kiss,  and  he  was  reduced  once  more  to  blind  obedience, 
his  longing  intensified,  yet  blended  with  fear  and  presage  of 
ill-fortune. 

Princess  Rilinski  sought  to  cheer  him  during  their  morning 
excursions  in  the  park. 

"  Tell  me,"  she  said  one  day,  when  they  were  out  alone, 


280  KATYA 

"  what  did  you  say  your  father's  name  was  ?  Ronald,  was  it  ? 
I  wish  it  had  been  anything  else,  for  it  is  so  difficult  to  use 
with  a  Russian  ending,  and  you  don't  know  how  unnatural 
it  seems  to  us  to  use  a  surname  when  speaking  to  so  near  a 
friend  as  you.  It  makes  me  feel  quite  uncomfortable  to  hear 
you  always  call  me  '  Princess  ' ;  could  you  not  just  say  '  Anas- 
tasia Grigorievna,'  as  the  others  do  ?" 

"  With  pleasure — Anastasia  Grigorievna — especially  if  you 
would  simply  use  my  Christian  name." 

"  Then  I  will — that  is  to  say,  when  we  are  alone  or  only 
Katya  is  with  us.  We  three  have  our  little  secret  together; 
I  understand  you  both.  You  have  waited  so  long,  so  faithful 
you  have  been,  and  now  you  feel  that  you  deserve  your 
reward.  But  you  must  not  be  hard  on  Katya.  Think  a 
moment,  and  you  will  see  that  it  is  only  fair  to  give  her  a 
little  time  to  settle  down,  so  to  speak,  before  commencing  her 
new  life.  And,  believe  me,  it  is  best  for  yourself  also  that 
she  should  not  act  hastily.  We  women  think  in  another  way 
than  men,  and  perhaps  we  are  not  so  impatient.  But  do  not 
be  afraid;  she  will  be  yours  in  good  time.  I  could  wish, 
perhaps,  that  she  had  chosen  a  Russian,  one  of  our  own  faith ; 
but  you  have  taught  me  to  like  and  trust  you,  and  I  know 
you  will  be  a  true  husband  to  my  child.  You  have  at  least 
my  earnest  blessing.  And  then  I  have  thought  of  something 
else.  When  now  you  go  home  in  the  autumn  to  arrange  your 
affairs — you  poor  boy  !  you  have  sacrificed  so  much  for  Katya's 
sake — I  will  write  myself,  as  Katya's  mother,  to  Lord  Farring- 
ham,  and  ask  him  to  help  you  in  all  he  can.  Do  you  not  think 
it  would  be  right  ?" 

"  I  do  not  know  how  to  thank  you,  Anastasia  Grigorievna. 
May  Heaven  bless  you  for  your  kindness  !" 

"  Let  me  kiss  you  on  the  forehead,  George,  as  we  do  here  in 
Russia.  Now  do  not  be  unhappy  any  more.  I  will  give  you 
my  daughter  gladly  when  the  time  comes,  though  she  is  my 
dearest  child." 

One  evening  towards  the  middle  of  September  a  violent 
storm  broke  over  Priluka.  Earth  and  sky  were  blotted  out, 
swallowed  up  in  a  raging  turmoil  of  the  elements.  From  the 
windows  one  could  see  nothing  but  a  curtain  of  pelting  rain 
and  whirling  leaves,  save  when  the  lightning  rent  the  whole 


A  LOSING  GAME  281 

across,  showing  the  lake  all  thrashed  to  furious  waves  framed 
in  great  firs  that  swayed  and  bent  like  reeds.  Owls  hooted 
weirdly  between  the  crashes  of  the  thunder.  More  than  one 
great  oak  was  shivered  that  wild  night. 

The  whole  house-party,  including  the  children,  were  assem- 
bled in  the  drawing-room.  Princess  Rilinski  sat  pale  and 
crouched  together  in  her  chair;  she  looked  from  one  to  the 
other  in  the  circle  about  her,  gazing  long  at  each,  as  though 
seeking  to  fix  their  features  in  her  mind,  perhaps  for  the  last 
time.  She  beckoned  little  Sasha  to  her,  and  held  his  hand 
long  without  speaking.  Sonya  sat  beside  her  mother,  watch- 
ing her  face  as  though  she  read  her  thoughts.  Farringham, 
Dolgoruki,  and  Shipagin  stood  by  one  of  the  windows,  dis- 
cussing the  latest  news  from  the  scene  of  operations  in  Man- 
churia; the  strongly  fortified  position  at  Liao-Yang  had  been 
abandoned,  and  Kuropatkin  was  in  full  retreat  towards 
Mukden.  Elena  Ivanovna  had  called  Miss  Warden  and  the 
children  to  her  at  a  table  where  stood  a  lighted  lamp,  and  was 
showing  them  a  collection  of  albums  and  loose  photographs. 
Katya  was  walking  up  and  down,  deep  in  her  own  thoughts. 

"'  Sonya,"  said  the  Princess  to  her  youngest  daughter,  "  I 
can't  help  thinking  of  our  dear  Petya  in  this  awful  storm. 
Ah  me  1  we  were  so  fond  of  him,  your  father  and  I ;  it  cut 
us  to  the  heart  when  he  left  us  as  he  did.  .  .  .  Forgive  me, 
dear,  I  did  not  mean  to  .  .  ."  She  sighed  deeply.  "  My 
thoughts  wander  so.  ...  Sasha  dear,  promise  me  always 
to  make  Petya  welcome  here  when  Priluka  is  yours.  He  was 
one  of  your  father's  dearest  friends — he  and  Uncle  Niki.  .  .  . 
Promise  me,  Sasha." 

"  Yes,  grandmama,  indeed  I  will.  Mama  also  speaks  so 
kindly  always  of  Captain  Orloff." 

"  I  am  so  glad  he  is  not  going  with  the  fleet  after  all,"  went 
on  the  Princess.  "  And,  indeed,  it  would  have  been  a  shame 
to  take  a  man  of  his  name  away  from  the  Black  Sea.  But  it 
must  be  hard  everywhere  in  this  horrible  time  of  war,  when 
he  cannot  even  get  leave  to  come  here  for  a  couple  of  days  on 
the  way  from  Libau  to  Sevastopol.  It  would  have  done  him 
good  to  see  that  we  remember  him.  Sonya,  my  child,  be 
kind  to  him  when  you  see  him  in  Odessa." 

"  Of  course,  mama,  Gavril  Ivanovitch  and  I  will  be  only 
too  glad. .  .  .  We  are  both  so  fond  of  Petya — the  children  too." 


282  KATYA 

Katya  broke  off  her  pacing  up  and  down,  and  came  up  to 
her  mother.  "  Sonya  dear,"  she  said,  "  and  little  Sasha,  you 
mustn't  mind,  but  I  want  to  whisper  something  to  mama." 
She  bent  her  head  down  to  the  Princess's  ear.  Anastasia 
Grigorievna  shook  her  head.  "  No,  no,  Katya,  not  now,  not 
to-night."  Katya  insisted  caressingly.  "  I  don't  like  it, 
child,"  said  the  Princess.  "  Let  them  stay  where  they  are 
until  I  have  closed  my  eyes."  But  Katya  was  deaf  to  all 
resistance,  and  her  mother  acquiesced  perforce  at  last.  "  Well, 
well,  as  you  will,"  she  said,  with  a  sigh.  "  Here  is  the  key  of 
the  cabinet.  The  others  are  in  the  secret  drawer  to  the  left." 
Katya  kissed  her  swiftly,  and  whispered  once  more:  "  Say 
nothing  to  the  others;  let  it  be  a  surprise."  Then,  without 
further  words,  she  disappeared. 

The  storm  continued,  furious  as  ever.  The  windows  shook 
with  the  fury  of  the  gale ;  one  could  hear  the  wind  tearing  at 
the  creepers  on  the  veranda.  The  three  men  lowered  their 
voices,  that  the  women  and  children  might  not  hear  what  they 
said. 

"It  is  a  scandal,  a  disgrace  1"  said  Shipagin*  "  We  are 
shamed  before  the  whole  of  Europe.  The  impregnable  posi- 
tion of  Liao-Yang,  where  Kuropatkin  was  to  finally  defeat  the 
Japanese  before  advancing  to  the  relief  of  Port  Arthur  ! 
They  are  traitors,  these  Generals,  with  Scharfenstein  and 
the  other  Germans  at  their  head.  Your  countrymen  will  be 
pleased,  M.  Farringham." 

"  I  hope  not,"  said  Farringham.  "  These  are  heavy  times 
for  us  all.  .  .  ." 

"  All  this  is  nothing  beside  what  may  come,"  put  in  Count 
Dolgoruki.  His  voice  was  earnest.  "  I  am  less  concerned 
for  the  war  and  our  defeat  or  victory  there  than  for  the  effects 
of  these  continual  reverses  here  in  Russia  itself.  As  you  may 
know,  M.  Farringham,  the  political  department  of  the 
Kherson  Administration  is  in  my  charge,  as  head  of  the  Civil 
Cabinet  there.  Now,  a  semi-Oriental  town  like  Odessa  is 
perhaps  more  than  usually  exposed  to  undesirable  influences, 
and  our  working"  population  in  the  quarters  near  the  harbours 
has  always  had  a  bad  name.  Even  so,  I  must  say  it  is  astound- 
ing, the  audacity  with  which  the  revolutionary  party,  and 
especially  the  so-called  "  Intelligent!,"  pursue  their  policy  of 
exciting  the  masses,  and  the  success  which  attends  their  efforts. 


A  LOSING  GAME  283 

I  was  recalled  last  month  from  leave;  we  had  three  or  four 
political  arrests  every  day.  And  now,  after  the  disaster  at 
Liao-Yang,  it  will  be  worse  than  ever.  If  I  could,  I  would 
leave  my  wife  and  children  here  at  Priluka ;  there  is  no  knowing 
what  may  happen  in  a  town  like  Odessa.  But  Sonyawill  not  stay 
unless  at  her  mother's  own  request,  and  Anastasia  Grigorievna 
is  scarcely  likely  to  ask  her  as  long  as  she  has  Katya.  Between 
ourselves,  gentlemen  " — he  lowered  his  voice  yet  more — "  I 
could  wish  that  the  Rilinskis  had  sold  their  holdings  in 
Peressip  long  since.  It  is  a  hateful  slum.  I  have  nothing  to 
say  against  Sonya's  part  as  an  investment — the  late  Prince 
and  General  Karatayef  have  acted  as  clever  and  far-seeing 
men  of  business  there — but  the  whole  quarter  has  become 
a  haunt  of  the  worst  characters;  there  are  more  arrests  made 
in  the  Novaya  Ekaterinskaya  than  anywhere  else.  .  .  ." 

"  What  is  there  remarkable  about  that  street  in  particular  ?" 
inquired  Farringham.  "  And  what  is  Peressip  ?" 

"  Novaya  Ekaterinskaya  is  named  after  our  Katya," 
answered  Count  Dolgoruki,  and  proceeded  to  explain  to 
Farringham  the  history  of  the  Rilinskis'  and  Karatayef's  con- 
nection with  the  new  quarter  to  the  west  of  the  Local  Traffic 
Harbour  in  Odessa.  While  he  was  speaking,  Dimitri  flung 
open  the  doors  and  announced  with  twinkling  solemnity : 

"  Her  Majesty  the  Queen  of  Sheba  1" 

All  turned  to  look  as  Katya  entered  the  room,  with  Tanya 
on  her  right  and  Dimitri  on  her  left,  bearing  silver  candelabra 
with  lit  candles. 

The  children  set  up  a  long  "  Oh  !";  little  Sergei  clapped  his 
hands  in  delight,  and  cried,  "  You  lovely  mama  !  Uncle 
George,  see  how  lovely  mama  is  !" 

Katya  was  wearing  a  splendid  evening  dress  of  white  silk, 
deeply  dtcolletee.  On  her  head  she  bore  the  emerald  diadem 
of  the  Rilinskis,  that  formed  a  sparkling  crown  of  green  about 
the  waves  of  her  heavy  dark  hair.  Round  her  neck  was  a 
wide  collar  of  pearls;  the  breast  and  shoulders  of  her  dress 
were  bordered  with  turquoises,  set  in  rows,  like  blue-winged 
beetles  among  dewdrops.  About  her  waist,  and  slantwise 
down  the  skirt,  were  flashing  brilliants,  and  on  the  rounding 
of  her  arms  above  the  wrist  rubies  and  emeralds  threw  back 
the  candles'  light. 

A  happy  smile  played  about  her  mouth;  in  the  eyes  of  all 


284  KATYA 

around  her  she  read  wonder,  admiration,  almost  worship. 
Farringham  looked  as  though  about  to  kneel.  Shipagin  mur- 
mured again  and  again,  "  Wonderful — wonderful  !"  Count 
Dolgomki  gazed  at  her  in  eloquent  silence;  Elena  Dolgoruki 
and  Miss  Warden  sat  with  folded  hands.  Sonya  seemed  more 
astonished  than  impressed.  "  What  an  idea,  Katya — this 
evening,  of  all  strange  times,  to  choose  !"  Princess  Rilinski 
smiled  with  motherly  pride  as  she  looked  at  her  beautiful 
daughter;  Tatiana  Feodorovna  wept  generous  tears  of  pure 
delight.  "  An  Empress,  little  dove — a  holy  saint  !"  she  mur- 
mured, her  fingers  moving  stealthily  to  touch  her  mistress's 
dress  and  the  ancestral  jewels  of  the  princely  house  she 
served. 

All  flocked  about  Katya  as  she  turned  with  conscious  grace 
to  show  her  whole  magnificence  from  every  side.  Her  mother 
began  telling  Farringham  the  history  of  the  jewels;  Shipagin 
was  trying  to  estimate  their  value. 

"  There  is  much  more  in  the  casket,"  said  Katya;  "  only  I 
couldn't  wear  everything  at  once.  There  are  lots  and  lots  of 
turquoises.  Really  I  think  it  would  look  best  with  them 
alone;  they  are  simply  lovely  !" 

No  one  had  now  any  thought  for  the  storm;  the  men  had 
forgotten  their  earnest  conversation  of  a  moment  before. 
The  children  and  their  elders  were  alike  entirely  occupied  with 
Katya  and  the  family  jewels. 

Little  Sergei  had  not  recovered  from  his  first  impression  of 
wondering  delight.  "  And  is  it  all  yours,  mama  ?"  he  asked 
aloud. 

"No,"  replied  Katya,  somewhat  embarrassed;  "all  these 
beautiful  things  belong  to  grandmama." 

"  But  will  they  be  yours  when  grandmama  dies  ?" 

"  Sergei !"  Katya  sent  him  an  angry  glance.  There  was 
an  awkward  pause. 

"  It  is  only  natural  that  he  should  ask,"  said  the  Princess, 
with  a  gentle  smile.  "  Come,  little  Sergei — come  here  to  me. 
You  are  a  good  boy,  and  you  are  quite  right  to  say  your 
mother  is  lovely — so  do  we  all." 

Anna  Nikolaievna,  who  had  been  watching  Katya  and 
Farringham  all  the  time,  turned  to  her  brother.  "  Mama 
has  borrowed  the  jewels  from  grandmama,"  she  said  in  her 
strangely  grown-up  way,  "  to  make  herself  look  nice.  But 


A  LOSING  GAME  285 

Sasha  will  have  them,  you  know,  when  he  is  a  man — and  all 
Priluka  too." 

Katya  started ;  the  child's  words  stung  her. 

"  It  is  cold,"  she  said,  with  a  little  shake  of  her  shoulders. 
"  And  this  dress.  ...  I  think  I  will  go  up  and  get  rid  of  all 
this  magnificence.  I  only  put  it  on  to  brighten  you  all  up  a 
little  this  dull  evening.  ..." 

"  Oh  no,  mama,  not  yet !"  cried  little  Sergei.  "  You 
are  so  lovely  !  I  have  never  seen  you  so  beautiful !  Isn't 
she,  Uncle  George  ?" 

"  Yes,  indeed,  my  boy;  but  when  your  mother  feels  cold  . . ." 

"  I  think  mama  looks  better  when  she  is  riding  Mazeppa 
with  M.  Farringham,"  said  Anna  Nikolaievna  quietly. 
Again  a  pause  ensued,  accentuating  the  last  words.  Farring- 
ham sought  for  some  remark  with  which  to  break  the  silence, 
but  it  was  Elena  Ivanovna  who  spoke  first. 

"  Katya  dear,"  she  said  in  her  old  naively  girlish  way,  "  it 
is  so  charming  to  hear  how  the  children  speak  of  you  and 
M.  Farringham." 

The  elders  looked  uncomfortably  at  each  other.  Princess 
Rilinski  came  hastily  to  the  rescue.  "  Let  Tanya  go  up  with 
you  and  help  Jeannette,  Katya  dear.  And  take  a  shawl;  it 
is  so  draughty  in  the  long  corridor.  The  air  is  positively  cold 
this  evening;  I  suppose  it  is  the  storm." 

In  silence  Katya  gathered  up  her  train  and  left  the  room. 

When  the  door  had  closed  behind  her,  the  Princess  went  on. 
"It  is  quite  true  what  Annie  says.  The  jewels  in  the  iron 
casket  belong  to  that  Prince  Rilinski  who  owns  Priluka. 
When  Elisaveta  married  again  she  gave  me  back  all  the  old 
ornaments  which  my  husband  and  Sasha  had  given  her.  But 
I  say  to  you  all,  there  is  no  one  at  Priluka  who  has  better 
right  to  wear  the  Rilinski  jewels  than  my  daughter  Ekaterina. 
There  was  a  time  in  the  history  of  this  house  when  she  saved 
them  from  a  great  danger." 

"  Tell  us  about  it,  grandmama,"  said  little  Sergei. 

"No,  dear,  I  cannot;  but  one  day,  when  you  are  a  man, 
you  can  ask  your  grandfather  in  Odessa — he  knows." 

Farringham  had  gone  up  to  Anna  Nikolaievna  and  put  his 
arm  about  her  shoulder. 

"  Anna  dear,  I  want  to  speak  to  you." 

She  followed  him  unwillingly  to  one  of  the  windows. 


286  KATYA 

"  Tell  me,  Anna — why  is  it  you  do  not  like  me  ?  What 
have  I  done  that  you  are  always  so  unfriendly  ?" 

She  stood  a  moment  in  silence,  looking  down.  When  she 
raised  her  eyes  they  were  full  of  tears. 

"  You  have  made  my  father  and  my  grandfather  unhappy, 
M.  Farringham,"  she  said,  releasing  herself  from  his  arm. 

Farringham  bowed  his  head.  He  also  felt  suddenly  the 
cold  about  him. 

Away  in  her  own  room  Katya  laid  off  her  borrowed  splen- 
dour. Tanya  placed  the  jewels  carefully  back  in  their  cases, 
talking  ceaselessly  the  while.  "  An  Empress,  a  holy  saint  .  .  . 
you  must  marry  again,  little  dove;  many  men  would  be  happy 
for  only  a  look  from  you.  And  what  need  to  take  a  heathen 
Englishman;  there  are  Russians  enough  who  would  be  more 
than  willing,  my  treasure.  Let  them  only  see  you,  and  they 
will  fall  at  your  feet.  Men  are  all  fools,  as  I  used  to  say  to 
poor  Anton  Andreievitch.  .  .  .  Yes,  yes,  an  Empress,  a 
holy  saint.  .  .  ." 

But  Katya  was  not  listening.  She  watched  herself  in  the 
glass,  as  her  maid  loosed  the  diadem  from  her  hair.  Now  and 
again  the  crash  of  thunder  above  the  house  made  her  shiver; 
her  teeth  were  chattering  with  cold. 

"  See  what  you  are  doing,  Jeannette  !     You  hurt  me  !" 

"  If  madame  would  sit  still  a  moment  ..." 

Was  it  the  light  only,  or  did  the  glass  show  the  faintest 
wrinkles  about  her  eyes  ?  Was  there  not  something  in  the 
lines  of  the  mouth  that  told  how  the  years  had  gone  ?  How 
could  it  be  that  a  child's  word  could  dash  down  all  her  con- 
sciousness of  power  and  leave  her  weak,  weak  ?  .  .  .  Until 
now  she  had  but  one  wish — that  all  would  go  and  leave  her 
here  alone  at  Priluka,  to  fling  herself  at  her  mother's  knee 
and  cry  as  she  had  done  so  many  years  ago.  .  .  . 

Tanya  stood  with  her  apron  full  of  sparkling  stones.  "  And 
now  it  all  goes  to  little  Sasha.  Sixteen  he'll  be  next  spring, 
my  own  Sasha's  boy.  .  .  .  And  happy  he  was  to  see  you  so 
this  night,  little  dove  ...  an  Empress,  a  holy  saint.  .  .  ." 

But  no  one  listened  to  Tanya.  In  Katya's  ears  a  voice  was 
speaking  low,  a  secret  whisper  heard  beneath  the  storm, 
thrusting  into  her  heart  the  icy  words  from  that  dread  night 
in  the  City  of  Suffering : 

"  Too  late  .      .  it  is  too  late  1" 


WAITING  AND  DOUBT  287 

CHAPTER  IV 

WAITING   AND   DOUBT 

THAT  winter  Princess  Rilinski  fell  seriously  ill ;  Mikailo  drove 
in  to  Dubni  sometimes  twice  a  day  with  the  closed,  fur-lined 
sledge  to  bring  the  doctor. 

Katya  nursed  her  mother  with  the  kindliest  care;  she  moved 
out  of  her  own  room,  which  she  had  had  since  she  was  a  child, 
and  took  up  her  quarters  in  Anastasia  Grigorievna's  little 
dressing-room,  where  the  door  leading  to  the  sick-room  stood 
open  day  and  night.  It  was  long  since  Mazeppa  had  carried 
his  mistress  in  the  saddle ;  Mikailo  took  him  for  a  run  now  and 
then  in  the  stable-yard.  Katya  would  not  allow  her  favourite 
mount  to  draw  a  sledge,  nor  did  she  like  others  to  ride  him. 
She  herself  seldom  rode  beyond  the  boundaries  of  the  park, 
but,  however  short  her  absence,  she  could  always  mark,  on 
her  return,  that  her  mother  had  missed  her. 

The  two  women  spoke  often  of  Farringham,  whose  affairs 
were  progressing  favourably.  His  uncle  had  promised  to 
find  him  a  position  which  would  enable  him  to  marry,  and  had 
in  the  meanwhile  done  something  to  augment  his  present 
slender  resources.  Princess  Rilinski's  letter  had  evidently 
not  been  without  effect.  There  was,  however,  no  immediate 
prospect  of  Katya's  going  to  England.  Although  her  mother 
frequently  urged  her  to  make  preparations  for  the  marriage, 
she  herself  did  nothing.  Neither  her  children  nor  General 
Karatayef  had  as  yet  been  informed  of  her  intention.  Katya's 
application  for  an  augmentation  of  her  pension  had  been  for- 
warded through  the  Ministry  for  Foreign  Affairs  to  the  proper 
quarter;  as  to  its  fate,  however,  neither  she  nor  Mandelberg 
knew  anything  at  all.  It  almost  seemed  as  though  the  war 
in  Manchuria  had  interrupted  the  regular  progress  of  business 
in  that  department  also.  When  the  Princess  asked  her 
daughter  if  she  did  not  think  the  application  should  be  altered 
so  as  only  to  embrace  the  needs  of  the  children,  Katya  answered 
with  something  like  impatience  that  it  seemed  as  if  her  mother 
wished  to  get  rid  of  her. 

"  Really,  mama,  is  it  so  pressing  a  matter,  my  departure 
from  Priluka  ?  And  as  for  those  wretched  three  thousand 


288  KATYA 

roubles  of  my  own,  Miliukin  said  the  sum  would  be  withdrawn 
if  I  married  again.  Well,  let  it  go.  But  I  must  be  allowed 
to  be  married  first  before  we  trouble  about  such  trifles." 

"  You  know  yourself,  dear,  how  glad  I  am  to  have  you  here 
with  me.  Heaven  will  reward  you  for  your  faithful  care  and 
affection.  But  you  are  too  hard  upon  your  lover,  child. 
Think  how  long  he  has  waited  for  you — even  since  you  gave 
him  your  promise.  A  man  may  well  grow  tired  of  waiting  so, 
even  when  he  is  as  good  and  true  as  George.  Men  are  not 
patient,  dear." 

But  Katya  shelved  the  question.  Her  conscience  was 
uneasy  with  regard  to  Farringham ;  she  knew  she  was  acting 
wrongly  towards  him,  and  yet  she  found  it  impossible  to 
decide.  When  she  thought  matters  over,  she  felt  that  her 
promise  to  him  irked  and  chafed  her  like  a  chain.  Then,  too, 
he  was  a  foreigner ;  marriage  with  him  would  mean  separation 
from  her  country  and  her  friends,  a  new  struggle  among  alien 
people  in  an  unknown  world.  Farringham  had  promised  that 
they  should  live  most  of  the  year  at  Priluka,  as  long  as  that 
white  palace  in  Ukraine  remained  her  own.  There  were 
but  two  years  now — and  a  year  was  so  short.  Possibly, 
too,  his  new  position  and  his  dependence  on  his  uncle  might 
make  it  difficult  for  him  to  keep  his  promise.  She  would  be 
dependent  in  every  way.  Nor  had  she  now  her  old  strong 
courage,  nor  the  same  weapons  to  serve  her  in  a  fight  for 
supremacy.  Each  morning  the  great  glass  in  Anastasia 
Grigorievna's  dressing-room  showed  her  the  too  plain  traces 
of  the  hastening  years — more  evident,  even,  than  on  that  night 
when  the  jewels  of  the  Rilinskis  had  been  taken  from  her, 
one  by  one,  because  they  were  not  hers,  and  never  would  be 
hers.  .  .  . 

"  You  have  borne  children,  but  you  are  barren,  Katya." 
Was  there  more  truth,  perhaps,  in  Niki's  words  than  she  had 
dreamed  ?  Had  he  delved  in  the  depths  of  her  soul  only  to 
find  all  desolation  there  ?  How  could  she  be  barren  ?  She 
knew  that  she  could  love.  A  wealth  of  feelings  pulsed 
through  her  heart.  And  she  was  fond  of  Farringham.  .  .  . 
And  Petya — kindly,  faithful  Petya,  who  never  wrote  or 
wearied  her,  but  waited  ever,  with  unchanging  affection. 
Had  Niki  meant  the  mere  desire  of  possession,  so  coarse  and 
ugly  in  a  man  ?  Yet  he  had  possessed  her;  she  had  given  him 


WAITING  AND  DOUBT  289 

all  he  craved,  to  him  and  to  no  other.  And  now  Farringham 
would  demand  the  same  of  her;  she  understood  what  her 
mother  had  meant  by  "  men's  impatience."  Katya  shivered 
at  the  thought  of  what  awaited  her.  She  felt  no  longing  for 
any  new  embrace,  no  least  desire  to  be  the  mother  of  any 
man's  children.  If  that  was  to  be  barren,  then  she  was  barren, 
and  would  never  be  otherwise.  No,  life  was  mean  and  cruel ; 
she  wished  for  nothing  but  to  stay  on  at  Priluka,  away 
from  everyone  save  her  mother,  whom  she  loved — her  good, 
kind  mother.  She  must  not  die  and  leave  her  utterly 
alone  ! 

At  this  time  Farringham  was  in  London,  drifting  idly  about 
in  his  clubs.  The  time  crawled  slowly  on;  Katya's  letters 
grew  more  brief,  and  the  intervals  between  them  longer.  He 
longed  for  some  sign  from  her  which  could  banish  his  fear 
and  doubt — longed  to  regain  his  old  feeling  of  confidence  in 
her  and  in  their  future.  There  were  days  when  his  longing 
grew  to  desperate  misery.  Try  as  he  would,  he  could  not  hide 
from  himself  the  fact  that  his  love  and  its  hope  were  slowly 
perishing  for  want  of  nourishment.  Whenever  Katya,  in  her 
letters,  tried  to  resume  the  pitch  of  intimate  confidence  from 
the  happy  spring  days  at  Priluka,  he  could  feel  how  utterly 
she  failed.  Each  letter  showed  also  that  she  had  forgotten 
what  she  had  written  in  the  last;  the  grace  and  fluency  of 
style  which  he  had  so  much  admired,  and  which  had  marked 
every  one  of  her  letters  to  Stradovo,  had  given  place  now  to 
forced,  monotonous  repetition  of  expressions  which  had  long 
since  lost  their  freshness — a  playing  upon  slackened  and  dis- 
cordant strings.  She  reiterated  her  promise  to  come  to 
England,  or  to  ask  him  again  to  Priluka,  as  soon  as  her 
mother's  health  permitted.  Month  after  month,  however, 
brought  the  same  news  of  Princess  Rilinski;  no  pain,  but 
neither  any  strength  with  which  to  meet  the  ever-threatening 
danger.  The  doctor  from  Dubni  had  recommended  that  a 
famous  specialist  from  Kief  should  be  called  in,  and  this  had 
been  done — with  no  further  result,  however,  than  that  the 
great  man  had  approved  of  all  that  his  colleague  was  doing  for 
the  patient,  and  had  informed  Katya  privately  that  the 
Princess  might  live  for  half  a  year  or  more,  if  they  succeeded 
in  keeping  up  her  little  remaining  strength.  But  she  might 
pass  away  suddenly  at  any  time.  "  Above  all,  no  excitement ; 

19 


290  KATYA 

perfect  quiet,  careful  nursing,  and  nourishing  diet — that  is  all 
that  can  be  done." 

Farringham  wrote  to  ask  if,  under  these  circumstances,  he 
might  not  as  well  come  to  Priluka  at  once.  The  first  few  letters 
he  received  gave  him  no  answer;  he  repeated  his  request, 
promising  to  interfere  in  no  way  with  Katya's  nursing,  and 
to  make  his  presence  as  little  marked  as  possible.  When  at 
last  an  answer  came,  it  was  to  the  effect  that  the  doctor  had 
forbidden  even  the  slightest  disturbance;  it  was  not  even 
considered  advisable  to  invite  Sonya  or  little  Sasha.  "  But 
trust  me,  dear  George,"  she  wrote,  "  that  as  soon  as  there 
occurs  any  change  for  the  better,  or,  as  we,  alas  !  must  be 
prepared  for,  the  worse,  you  shall  be  the  first  to  hear." 

Farringham  attempted  to  while  away  the  long  hours  of  his 
irksome  leisure  by  studying  Russian,  and  worked  hard  at 
the  language,  making  rapid  progress.  He  took  in  one  of  the 
principal  Kief  papers,  and  devoured  besides  all  that  the 
English  press  offered  of  news  from  the  seat  of  war  in  Man- 
churia and  the  internal  unrest  in  Russia  itself.  This  was  the 
only  way  in  which  he  could  to  some  degree  satisfy  his  need  of 
living  for  and  with  Katya.  Often,  when  he  wrote  to  her,  he 
thought  with  anxiety  of  the  possible  fate  of  his  letters.  Did 
they  weary  her  ?  Had  he  lost  the  power  to  make  her  listen 
with  her  heart  ?  Was  she  gliding  gradually  away  from  him  ? 
Was  he  to  lose  her  at  the  last,  seeing  her  leaving  him  far 
behind,  as  when  she  rode  from  him  that  day  by  Mukovo, 
hastening  triumphantly  into  her  City  of  Suffering  ? 

Old  Lord  Farringham  was  in  town;  as  the  leader  of  the 
Opposition,  his  presence  was  necessary  as  long  as  the  House 
was  sitting.  He  did  not  fail  to  mark  the  all  too  evident  state 
of  his  nephew's  mind.  "  For  a  comparatively  young  lover," 
he  said  one  day,  "  you  do  not  look  particularly  cheerful,  my 
boy.  Course  of  true  love  not  running  smooth,  eh  ?  And 
how  is  Princess  Rilinski  ?  Delightful  old  lady  she  must  be, 
to  judge  from  that  letter  she  wrote  me;  I  should  like  to  know 
her.  And  I  must  say  it  speaks  well  for  her  daughter's  heart 
that  she  nurses  her  mother  with  such  care.  It  cannot  be 
very  amusing  for  a  young  and  pretty  woman  to  live  by  herself 
in  a  lonely  place  in  the  middle  of  Russia  all  through  the 
winter.  It  must  be  horribly  cold  and  dull." 

Farringham  spent  many  a  lonely  evening  striving  to  come 


WAITING  AND  DOUBT  291 

to  some  clear  understanding  of  his  feeling  for  Katya,  and  hi* 
whole  idea  of  her.  He  saw  her  in  many  guises,  as  one  playing 
many  parts,  which  seemed  opposed  one  to  another,  and  from 
which  it  was  impossible  to  extract  any  common  personality. 
Of  them  all,  the  picture  of  her  as  a  young  girl  in  Paris,  longing, 
amid  the  brilliant  surroundings,  for  her  home  in  far  Ukraine, 
seemed  to  harmonize  best  with  Katya's  self  as  he  had  seen 
her  at  Priluka.  There  was  perhaps  some  likeness  also,  between 
Karatayef's  young  wife,  who,  in  despite  of  all  other  women, 
had  claimed  and  won  supremacy  in  those  cities  of  the  Balkans, 
and  the  Katya  who  had  played  hostess  through  that  summer 
at  Priluka,  eager  in  every  amusement  of  the  moment,  with 
no  thought  beyond  the  present.  But  he  found  it  impossible 
to  reconcile  the  cult  she  made  of  Niki's  memory  with  the 
conditions  of  that  marriage,  which  he  himself  knew  better 
than  any  other.  He  could  not  understand  how  Karatayef 
dead  could  come  to  mean  so  much  to  her,  when  the  living 
man  had  played,  apparently,  so  slight  a  part  in  her  life.  The 
only  explanation  he  could  find  failed  to  satisfy  him,  and  he 
strove  to  eliminate  it  from  his  mind.  No  one,  least  of  all 
himself,  should  say  of  Katya  that  she  played  a  heroine's  part 
for  its  applause,  eternally  unsatisfied  with  the  appreciation 
won,  even  from  those  who  stood  her  nearest.  Nor  did  such 
a  picture  answer  in  the  least  to  reality  as  he  had  observed  and 
noted  it :  her  faithful  tenderness  towards  her  mother,  and 
her  passionate  affection  for  her  beautiful  home.  And  yet, 
here  again  uncertainty  and  vagueness  marred  his  view.  His 
impression  of  Katya  as  a  daughter  did  not  agree  with  his 
observation  of  her  as  a  mother,  however  much  he  strove  to 
make  it.  Her  children  played  too  small  a  part  in  her  exist- 
ence; she  did  not  even  understand  them.  Farringham 
shivered  at  the  recollection  of  Anna  Nikolaievna's  words  that 
evening  when  her  mother  had  put  on  the  borrowed  jewels. 
This  child — now  almost  a  young  woman — regarded  her  mother 
as  an  enemy,  and  hated  Farringham  himself.  How  could  he 
ever  act  a  father's  part  towards  her  ?  She  was  like  ice,  ex- 
haling such  a  cold  as  threatened  death  to  his  own  happi- 
ness. She  was  the  shadow  cast  by  Katya's  first  marriage 
over  the  new,  in  which  all  hope  and  confidence  and  safety 
withered. 
The  years  had  set  their  mark  on  Katya,  and  yet  she  was 


292  KATYA 

still  desirable  now,  in  her  fascinating  beauty  of  late  summer, 
as  she  had  been  in  her  life's  earliest  spring,  It  needed  not 
a  lover's  eye  to  see  that  she  had  yet  the  power  to  win  and 
rule.  That  evening  of  the  storm,  when  she  had  decked  her- 
self in  brilliant  barbaric  splendour — it  was  not  Farringham 
alone  who  had  felt  himself  fascinated.  There  was  something 
of  a  challenge  in  her  showing  herself  thus  at  such  a  time, 
and  she  had  need  of  all  her  confident  strength  to  support  it. 
But  the  end  had  been  harsh  discord,  as  now  with  her  letters 
to  himself.  It  was  all  a  desperate  playing  upon  strings  now 
void  of  melody — a  lost  hope  led  against  the  pitiless  waves  of 
time. 

Farringham  had  wished  to  see  his  Katya  at  Priluka;  he 
had  seen  her,  but  did  he  know  her  better  now  for  that  ?  He 
could  but  shake  his  head  in  answer.  He  knew  now  that  he 
had  deceived  himself  and  her  in  saying  that  he  only  needed 
to  be  near  her.  The  self-effacing  modesty  of  worship  had 
grown  to  an  intense  desire  for  possession;  he  would  have  her 
for  his  own,  jealously  watching  that  no  day  should  be  lost 
of  his  long-waited  and  late-won  reward.  He  was  no  more 
her  servant;  he  could  scarcely  bear  to  wait  a  month  more  in 
uncertainty.  Now  it  must  be;  now  he  would  take  her  or 
resign.  He  would  not  listen  to  his  secret  fear  of  the  hidden 
violent  forces  in  herself;  he  would  be  deaf  to  every  voice  of 
warning  from  his  own  too  clearly  seeing  reason.  But  a 
decision  he  would  have — an  end  of  this  fear-shadowed  waiting 
that  was  wrecking  all  his  health  and  peace  of  soul. 

His  resolution,  however,  met  but  the  fate  of  many  earlier 
such.  It  bore  no  fruit  of  action,  and  Farringham  felt  his 
weakness  pitifully.  The  winter  melted  into  spring,  the 
London  season  was  at  its  height.  Farringham  was  beginning 
to  familiarize  himself  with  his  duties  as  political  secretary,  in 
the  position  which  his  uncle  had  given  him  in  order  to  occupy 
his  mind  and  keep  him  from  melancholy  reflection.  By  the 
end  of  May  Katya's  letters  had  dwindled  to  brief  bulletins  of 
her  mother's  condition.  The  newspapers  were  full  of  reports 
of  riot  and  disturbance  throughout  the  Russian  Empire.  At 
the  seat  of  war  in  Manchuria  things  had  been  quiet  since  the 
Russian  retreat  from  Mukden,  but  a  great  fleet  was  on  its  way 
from  the  Baltic  to  the  Chinese  coast,  and  nearing  now  the  waters 
where  the  Japanese  were  waiting,  ready  for  the  final  struggle. 


WAITING  AND  DOUBT  293 

At  last,  in  the  beginning  of  June,  Farringham  received  a 
telegram,  despatched  from  Dubni,  and  considerably  delayed 
in  transmission  on  account  of  the  disorganization  of  the 
Russian  telegraph  service.  It  read : 

"  Come  at  once ;  mother  asking  for  you.  Life  ebbing  slowly ; 
situation  desperate. — KATYA." 

The  same  evening  Farringham  left  London. 

Princess  Rilinski  lay  in  her  bed,  very  white  and  still.  Both 
her  daughters  were  with  her.  At  the  foot  sat  Tanya,  weeping 
silently;  now  and  then  she  rose,  and  stole  out  to  bring  word 
to  those  waiting  in  sorrowful  anxiety  without.  The  great 
house  was  full  of  silence.  In  the  country  round  about  the 
peasants  were  rising,  harrying  the  estates  with  fire  and  steel, 
while  in  the  towns,  in  Kief  and  Tchernigof,  Kursk,  and 
Odessa,  bloodshed  and  burning  were  in  spate.  Priluka  waited 
for  the  death  that  was  to  come  within  its  walls,  and  prayed 
for  the  soul  that  soon  should  find  its  rest. 

"  I  know  you — yes,  my  children."  Anastasia  Grigorievna's 
voice  was  faint  and  gentle.  "  I  know  you  are  here  with  me. 
And  Sasha  is  coming  soon — my  own  Sasha;  it  is  long  since  I 
have  seen  him.  He  was  so  ill,  and  we  did  not  know*  And 
Niki  was  so  good  to  him — papa  and  I  were  so  fond  of  Niki. 
.  .  .  Sonya,  child,  what  is  the  matter  ?  Are  you  faint  ? 
It  is  the  sun;  you  must  not  stand  so  on  the  steps.  Sonya, 
little  Sonya  dear,  come  to  me,  and  do  not  cry  so.  It  will  be 
easier  after  a  time.  .  .  .  You  must  try  to  bear  it  bravely, 
darling,  and  we  will  help  you,  all  of  us.  Petya.  .  .  .  Where 
is  Petya  ?  I  asked  you  to  call  him ;  I  must  say  good-bye.  *  .  ." 

The  thin,  transparent  fingers  played  nervously  with  the 
coverings ;  the  eyes,  with  their  heartrending  look  of  unreality, 
turned  towards  Katya. 

"  You  have  not  forgotten  Petya  ?  .  .  .  I  cannot  go  till  I 
have  said  good-bye." 

Katya  exchanged  a  glance  with  her  sister. 

"  Petya  has  come,  mama  dear;  he  is  in  the  drawing-room; 
Tanya  shall  call  him." 

"  Thanks,  Katya  dear.  Bend  down,  child,  and  let  me  kiss 
you ;  you  have  made  my  last  days  quiet  and  good.  My  hands 
are  so  heavy,  or  I  would  bless  you,  dear,  as  I  did  when  you  lay 
sobbing  on  the  divan  there  that  day.  But  the  blessing  is  in 


294  KATYA 

my  thoughts,  dear — in  my  heart — and  soon  I  will  ask  God  to 
watch  over  you,  my  little  swift  bird.  You  would  go  your  own 
ways  always,  yet  you  loved  Priluka  so — Priluka  and  us 
all. 

In  the  doorway  that  led  to  the  dressing-room  stood  Petya 
Orloff;  his  eyes  asked  Sonya  if  he  might  come  in.  She  shook 
her  head.  Katya  was  sitting  with  her  back  to  him,  striving 
to  keep  back  her  tears.  The  Princess  lay  with  closed  eyes, 
and  seemed  half  unconscious  now  of  her  surroundings. 

A  little  while  all  was  still.  Then  the  thin  hands  commenced 
again  their  nervous  play.  Anastasia  Grigorievna  opened  her 
eyes,  and  stared  as  though  dazed  into  the  half-dark. 

"  Yes — tell  papa  I  am  coming.  Run,  Tanya,  let  Dimitri 
tell  Mikailo  to  harness  quickly — Sergei  Arkaievitch  does  not 
like  to  be  kept  waiting.  Sasha — where  is  Sasha  ?  Katya, 
your  brother  is  not  here.  .  .  .  Ah,  God,  to  let  him  die  alone  ! 
Not  even  Niki.  .  .  ." 

Tears  welled  over  the  pale  cheeks ;  the  hands  were  crushing 
the  folds  of  the  counterpane. 

"  Mama,"  whispered  Sonya  in  her  ear,  "  Petya  is  here — 
if  you  will  see  him." 

A  faint  smile  lit  the  dying  woman's  face.  Petya  Orloff 
kissed  her  hands,  and  knelt  beside  the  bed. 

"  Sonya,  child,  put  my  hand  on  Petya's  head — so.  It  is 
good  to  feel  you  here  again,  dear  boy.  You  must  not  run 
away  from  Priluka  again ;  Uncle  Sergei  and  I — we  will  be  kind 
to  you.  Stay  here  in  your  home,  Petya;  you  are  one  of  us, 
and  you  must  not  go  away.  Katya  dear,  remember  you  have 
promised,  and  Sonya  too.  Good-bye,  Petya,  my  own  boy, 
with  the  great  heart  to  suffer  and  wait.  .  .  ." 

The  words  grew  indistinct  and  died  away.  Sonya  gently 
lifted  her  mother's  hand.  Katya's  eyes  never  left  her  face. 

The  doctor  came  for  his  afternoon  visit;  when  he  had 
listened  to  the  patient's  breathing  and  felt  her  pulse,  he 
whispered  to  Sonya: 

"  The  priest !  I  brought  him  with  me  from  Dubni;  he  is 
waiting." 

Quietly,  solemnly,  the  old  priest  went  through  the  Mass  for 
those  about  to  die.  Thin  waves  of  incense  floated  through  the 
room,  as  the  prayer  went  up  for  grace  and  forgiveness  of  sins. 
Sonya  and  Petya  Orloff  knelt,  making  the  sign  of  the  cross; 


WAITING  AND  DOUBT  295 

at  the  foot  of  the  bed  Tanya  was  weeping  silently.  The 
doctor  marked  the  fainter  lift  of  the  weakening  breath. 
Katya  had  laid  one  hand  over  her  mother's,  and  watched  her 
closed  eyes  fixedly. 

Anastasia  Grigorievna  seemed  to  ignore  the  presence  of  the 
doctor  and  the  priest.  Now  and  again  she  opened  her  eyes, 
and  her  glance  met  Katya's.  A  scarcely  audible  whisper 
passed  her  pale  lips : 

"  George — Katya — do  not  forget.  .  ,  ." 

A  little  after  Katya  caught  the  words:  "  Sergei,  Sasha  .  .  . 
wait  for  me.  .  .  ." 

The  doctor  touched  Sonya  and  Petya  Orloff,  signing  to 
them  to  move  closer.  Katya  also  bent  cautiously  over  the 
bed. 

For  the  last  time  Princess  Rilinski  looked  in  the  faces  of 
those  she  loved.  They  saw  her  lips  move,  but  heard  only  the 
words  "...  all  ...  so  ...  kind.  .  ,  ." 

And  so,  in  the  summer  evening,  as  the  birds  in  the  park  of 
Priluka  sought  their  nests,  the  soul  of  Princess  Rilinski  passed 
with  the  passing  of  the  sunset  glow  into  the  dark. 

Not  until  two  days  after  did  Farringham  reach  Priluka, 
having  been  delayed  on  the  road,  partly  by  a  strike  of  Polish 
railwaymen,  partly  by  an  attempt  to  cut  the  line  between 
Kief  and  Koronevo. 

The  head  of  the  old  house,  the  only  one  who  now  bore 
the  long-honoured  name — Prince  Alexander  Alexandrovitch 
Rilinski — arrived  from  Belgrade  twenty-four  hours  later.  He 
had  been  forced  to  make  part  of  the  journey  from  Kief  in  a 
hired  carriage.  Count  Dolgoruki  telegraphed  from  Odessa 
that  it  was  impossible  for  him  to  leave  the  town,  and  repre- 
sented most  strongly  the  inadvisability  of  allowing  Sonya's 
and  Katya's  children  to  do  so  under  the  existing  circumstances. 
General  Karatayef  was  also  unable,  old  and  weak  as  he  was, 
to  bear  the  peril  and  fatigue  of  such  a  journey,  however  much 
he  might  desire  to  pay  the  last  honour  to  his  son's  faithful 
friend. 

It  was  but  a  small  train  of  mourners  that  followed  Princess 
Rilinski  to  her  grave  in  the  cemetery  at  Dubni.  Besides  her 
two  daughters  and  her  grandson  were  only  Petya  Orloff, 
Farringham,  and  Vladimir  Shipagin,  the  last-named  having 


296  KATYA 

arrived  from  Patkanovo  on  the  morning  of  the  funeral,  to 
return  the  same  day.  All  the  old  servants  from  Priluka  fol- 
lowed the  coffin,  but  none  of  the  peasants  from  the  estate  were 
met,  the  Chief  of  Gendarmerie  having  requested  that  every 
opportunity  for  an  assembly  in  force  be  avoided.  In  spite 
of  this  precaution,  the  Jews  in  Dubni  had  closed  their  shops 
and  retired  behind  shuttered  windows  as  the  procession  passed 
with  its  escort  of  mounted  gendarmes. 

After  a  life  of  love  and  kindliness,  Princess  Rilinski  was 
borne  to  her  grave  as  through  a  hostile  land. 


CHAPTER  V 

THE  DOUBLE  FLIGHT 

BOTH  Farringham  and  Petya  Orlofi  noticed  that  Katya's 
cheeks  had  lost  something  of  their  wonted  colour.  There 
were  times,  too,  when  her  bearing  seemed  less  upright,  her 
step  no  longer  so  elastic,  until,  recollecting  herself,  she  strove 
to  compensate  by  a  forced  effort  the  lack  of  that  grace  and 
easy  dignity  which  once  had  been  her  natural  carriage.  Now 
and  again  she  confessed  to  weariness;  dark  shadows  showed 
about  her  great  beautiful  eyes,  and  often  she  would  sit  for 
long  gazing  silently  before  her  into  nothing. 

Farringham  had  not  dared  to  press  his  claim  for  a  decision 
immediately  after  the  Princess's  death.  Katya  had  thanked 
him  warmly  and  kindly  for  his  coming ;  she  wept  in  his  arms, 
as  she  told  him  how  her  mother  at  the  last  had  spoken  of 
"  George  and  Katya."  But  she  begged  him  to  remember 
that  she  herself  could  now  have  no  thought  for  anything  save 
her  bereavement.  "  Do  not  fear,"  she  said,  and  there  was 
something  of  old  promise  in  her  tone;  "  my  faithful  lover,  do 
not  fear ;  I  am  yours,  as  I  promised  you,  and  as  mama  wished 
it  to  be.  Priluka  will  be  our  home  for  nearly  two  years  yet — 
as  long,  at  least,  as  you  can  make  it  so.  And  after  that  we 
two  can  find  a  place  to  be  happy  together.  But  let  me  have 
peace  a  little  while.  My  thoughts  are  heavy,  and  my  heart 
sick." 

The  only  one  who  seemed  able  to  interest  Katya  and  conjure 
back  her  old  bright  smile  was  Petya  Orloff.  For  the  last 


THE  DOUBLE  FLIGHT  297 

few  months  he  had  been  lying  in  Odessa  Roads  as  second  in 
command  on  board  the  Admiral  Orloff,  which,  together  with 
two  smaller  cruisers,  the  Dniepr  and  Pobieda,  were  apparently 
acting  as  a  sort  of  marine  police  control.  In  the  ordinary 
course,  Captain  Orloff  should  have  left  Priluka  immediately 
after  the  funeral,  but  at  Katya's  request  he  had  telegraphed 
asking  for  an  extension  of  leave.  Some  time  elapsed  before 
the  answer  arrived,  and  he  began  to  grow  uneasy.  "  You 
have  no  idea,"  he  said  at  table  the  same  evening,  "  what  a 
witches'  caldron  Odessa  is  just  now.  One  would  think  it  was 
there  the  war  was  being  fought,  and  not  in  the  Far  East." 
When  the  reply,  delayed  in  transmission,  arrived  at  last, 
giving  him  a  week's  respite,  Katya  was  as  glad  as  he  himself 
at  the  news. 

But  who  was  this  George  Farringham,  and  why  had  Princess 
Rilinski  desired  the  presence  of  this  stranger  by  her  death- 
bed ?  Petya  remembered  vaguely  a  conversation  years  ago 
in  the  "  Club,"  just  before  the  day  that  had  proved  so  fatal 
to  his  own  hopes — the  day  of  General  Karatayef's  victory, 
when  Katya  had  been  forced  to  sell  herself  for  those  grey  houses 
by  the  Black  Sea.  Petya  had  long  ago  forgotten  the  name  of 
that  Englishman  of  whom  she  had  spoken  that  day  in  the 
Club,  but  it  was  beyond  doubt  Farringham,  the  son  of  a 
village  priest,  one  day,  as  in  the  English  novels,  to  blossom 
out  into  a  noble  Earl.  It  was  he  whom  she  had  met  in  Paris 
in  that  year  when  she  had  written  two  letters  to  himself — his 
poor  treasures,  all  the  guerdon  she  had  ever  given.  .  .  .  Yes, 
he  remembered  now  ...  it  was  about  those  letters  he  had 
made  that  unlucky  slip — they  had  been  talking  of  that  same 
Englishman,  and  Farringham  was  his  name.  .  .  . 

Petya  Orloff  regarded  Farringham  with  suspicion.  He 
sought  for  information  from  his  old  friends,  Tanya,  Dimitri, 
and  Mikailo,  who  had  all  three  received  Petya  with  open 
arms,  Tanya  still  using  the  "  thou  "  of  his  boyhood,  that 
showed  how  she  counted  him,  as  Anastasia  Grigorievna  had 
said  at  the  last,  for  "  one  of  us."  He  asked  questions,  and 
very  soon  discovered  that  Farringham  had  been  at  Priluka 
from  the  previous  spring  till  far  on  in  September.  "  He  is  a 
nice  man,  Petya,"  said  old  Tanya.  "  Last  year  he  didn't 
understand  a  word  of  all  one  said  to  him,  poor  fellow  !  But 
this  time  he  can  speak  almost  like  a  human  being.  A  pity  he 


298  KATYA 

is  a  heathen,  and  has  such  a  horrible  name.  ..."  Mikailo 
protested  that  Petrushka,  bird  of  mystery,  had  kst  year 
spoken  better  Russian  than  Miyestr  Farringham,  the  foreigner 
who  had  neither  Christian  name  nor  patron ymic.  "  Still," 
added  Mikailo,  with  his  good-humoured,  crafty  smile,  "I  have 
learned  in  my  life,  Peotr  Konstantinovitch,  that  there  are 
times  when  all  languages  are  alike.  Now,  you  would  not 
think,  to  look  at  me,  that  I  could  understand  either  English 
or  French,  would  you  ?  No,  you  would  not,  and  you  would 
be  quite  right,  because  I  can't.  And  yet  I  could  tell  you 
pretty  exactly — I  don't  say  to  a  word  or  two,  but  pretty 
exactly,  as  I  say — all  that  the  Englishman  said  to  Ekaterina 
Sergeievna  last  spring,  when  they  went  riding  together." 
But  when  Petya  endeavoured  to  persuade  Mikailo  to  make 
proof  of  his  asserted  insight,  the  old  man  shook  his  greying 
mane,  and  declared  that  he  would  lose  his  right  hand  first. 
"  It's  like  this,  Peotr  Konstantinovitch,"  he  said,  with  the 
air  of  very  wisdom  imparting  precept  to  the  young:  "  I  know 
pretty  exactly  what  was  said  then  in  English  or  in  French — I 
didn't  say  to  a  word  or  two,  but  pretty  exactly — I  know  that 
well  enough.  But  I  do  not  know  if  that  is  now  still  said  in 
Russian,  and  so  I  keep  my  tongue  in  its  stable.  Not  all 
that  one  says  in  English  or  in  French  is  said  again  next  year 
in  Russian.  Look  at  Mazeppa  here.  The  fellow  came  from 
Stradovo,  where  poor  Nikolai  Nikolaievitch  was  done  to 
death  by  heathen  beings.  Now,  last  year  Mazeppa  had  no 
rest — no,  not  a  day — and  thin  he  was  at  last,  so  it  was  pitiable 
to  see,  in  spite  of  being  pumped  full  of  oats  as  a  priest  of 
vodka.  But  this  year  nobody  rides  Mazeppa,  and  he  stands 
there  doing  nothing,  and  growing  fat  as  a  Government  official 
in  Tchernigof." 

Petya  Orloff  approached  Sonya,  and  asked  her  frankly  in 
what  relation  Farringham  stood  to  Katya  and  the  family. 
Sonya's  reply  was  evasive:  a  friend  of  Katya  and  Niki;  for- 
merly in  the  English  Diplomatic  Service;  had  been  British 
Consul  in  Stradovo  at  the  time  of  Niki's  murder.  .  .  ,  Anas- 
tasia  Grigorievna  had  been  very  fond  of  him.  .  .  . 

"  And  you  do  not  think  there  is  anything  between  them  ?" 
asked  Petya  again.  "  Really,  Sonya,  you  might  speak 
openly  to  me,  at  least." 

Sonya  looked  down,  avoiding  his  eyes.     "It  is  not  easy 


THE  DOUBLE  FLIGHT  299 

to  say,  Petya.  Perhaps  there  has  been  something,  but,  on 
my  honour,  I  do  not  know  whether  there  is.  Ask  Katya  her- 
self when  you  can  get  an  opportunity." 

Petya  strove  to  conceal  his  uneasiness.  He  and  Farring- 
ham  were  to  all  outward  seeming  the  best  of  friends,  and 
often  took  their  morning  walk  in  the  park  together.  Young 
Prince  Rilinski  frequently  accompanied  them.  Sasha's  son, 
now  a  boy  of  sixteen,  had  conceived  a  passionate  attachment 
for  Orloff,  who  treated  him  with  the  kindliest  comradeship, 
and  spoke  so  affectionately  of  his  father. 

"  I  can't  help  feeling  I've  known  you  quite  a  long  time," 
said  Farringham  to  Orloff  once  during  their  morning  walk. 
"  The  Princess  often  used  to  speak  of  you;  it  will  doubtless 
be  no  news  to  you  when  I  say  she  was  extremely  fond  of  you." 

"  Grandmama  has  told  me  also  about  you,  Peotr  Kon- 
stantinovitch,"  put  in  Sasha.  "And  mama  —  you  should 
hear  her  !  My  stepfather  often  says  if  he  ever  could  be  jealous 
of  anyone  ..." 

"  Do  not  forget  to  bring  your  mother  my  sincerest  regards, 
Alexander  Alexandrovitch.  She  was  a  beautiful  and  charming 
girl  when  I  knew  her." 

"  You  might  say  '  thou'  and  '  Sasha '  to  me,  Peotr  Kon- 
stantinovitch." 

"  My  dear  boy,  what  an  idea  1"  Petya  laid  a  hand  on  the 
boy's  shoulder.  "  The  only  Prince  Rilinski  in  all  Russia,  and 
Lord  of  Priluka.  ..." 

"  Priluka  is  not  mine  yet;  it  is  a  year  next  spring  before  I 
am  of  age." 

"  Well,  perhaps  you  are  right  in  a  way;  but  it  doesn't  make 
much  difference.  Anyhow,  when  you  do  enter  upon  your 
inheritance,  I  hope  you  won't  make  too  many  alterations. 
Priluka  is  best  as  it  is." 

"  We  must  have  a  new  boat,  though,  Peotr  Konstantino- 
vitch;  I  have  spoken  to  Aunt  Katya  about  it.  The  old  one 
is  almost  falling  to  pieces ;  it's  dangerous  to  use  it ;  and  Dimitri 
says  it  must  be  twenty  years  old  at  least." 

There  was  a  touch  of  melancholy  in  Petya's  voice  as  he 
answered:  "  Sasha,  my  boy,  let  the  old  boat  stay  there  as 
long  as  it  can — a  little  longer — for  my  sake.  .  .  ." 

Both  Sasha  and  Farringham  looked  surprised;  Petya  him- 
self felt  that  he  was  giving  way  to  sentiment,  and  hastened 


3oo  KATYA 

to  add:  "  I  mean,  you  should  get  a  motor -boat  as  well,  and 
keep  the  old  one  on.  Ask  your  Aunt  Katya,  and  see  what 
she  says." 

Once  more  the  days  flew  quickly  at  Priluka.  Katya 
begged  and  prayed  Petya  to  apply  for  a  further  extension  of 
leave;  he  declared  it  was  impossible.  She  almost  clung  to 
him,  and  was  ever  reminding  him  of  their  youth  together 
and  the  many  happy  memories  they  had  in  common.  "  Petya, 
do  you  remember  .  .  ." — the  words  were  ever  on  her  lips, 
as  a  refrain — "  do  you  remember  when  you  wanted  me  to 
run  away  with  you  ?  Do  you  remember  how  I  blacked 
Petrushka,  and  you  climbed  up  and  fetched  him  in  a  paper 
bag  ?  Do  you  remember  when  we  broke  in  Murad,  and  papa 
was  so  angry  ?  Petya,  do  you  remember  .  „  .  ?" 

All  this  made  Farringham  feel  himself  a  stranger  once 
more;  his  presence  seemed  superfluous.  He  had  no  share  in 
these  recollections  that  were  continually  being  called  up  in 
his  hearing.  It  was  impossible  for  either  of  the  two  men  to 
see  Katya  alone;  both  tried,  and  often  their  attempts  led  to 
unmistakable  discovery  of  each  other's  intention,  much  to  the 
embarrassment  of  Petya,  who  found  it  difficult  to  appear 
unconcerned.  Katya  had  again  moved  in  to  her  own  apart- 
ments, and  did  not  appear  until  the  middle  of  the  day.  When 
not  accompanied  by  Sonya  and  Sasha,  she  was  careful  to  have 
business  with  Tanya,  or  Mikailo,  or  the  steward  of  the  estate, 
who  for  the  present  took  their  instructions  from  her  as  mis- 
tress of  Priluka.  Mandelberg  had  written  to  say  that  he 
would  come  as  soon  as  it  was  possible  to  travel  with  some 
degree  of  safety,  to  attend  to  the  reading  of  the  will  and 
other  necessary  formalities.  Altogether,  Katya  was  very 
evidently  busy.  If  Farringham  and  Petya  cared  to  accom- 
pany her  on  the  daily  round  of  duties,  they  were  welcome. 
She  could  spend  hours  with  them  together,  and  often  sent  for 
Petya,  if  he  did  not  appear  of  his  own  accord,  to  make  one  of 
the  party  inspecting  house  and  garden,  stables  and  stores. 
She  would  not  be  without  him  for  the  short  time  that  yet 
remained.  But  she  was  never  to  be  found  alone.  At  dinner, 
at  late  tea,  or  on  the  veranda  in  the  evening,  was  heard  con- 
tinually her,  "  Petya,  do  you  remember  ?"  and  Farringham 
saw  how  she  seemed  brightened  and  rejuvenated  by  the 
company  of  the  handsome,  kindly  officer — her  countryman 


THE  DOUBLE  FLIGHT  30! 

and    long  •  proved    friend,    who    had    been    her   mother's 
favourite,  and  whom  all  Priluka  loved. 

It  was  the  last  evening  before  Captain  Orloffs  departure. 
Sonya  and  Farringham  had  gone  indoors  for  a  moment  to  find 
some  pictures,  and  Katya  availed  herself  of  the  opportunity 
to  slip  away  with  Petya.  Sasha  had  begged  Aunt  Sonya  to 
play  over  some  old  Cossack  songs,  and  Farringham,  returning 
to  the  veranda  alone,  found  it  deserted. 

A  feeling  of  uneasiness  seized  him.  Katya  was  willing, 
then,  to  walk  alone  with  Petya  in  the  evening,  the  time  she 
hitherto  had  always  spent  with  the  whole  party  together.  t  .  . 
What  meant  this  vague  undercurrent  of  things  going  on  about 
him,  in  which  he  had  no  personal  part,  and  which  he  was  yet 
daily  forced  to  witness  ?  His  old  impatient  claim  for  a  de- 
cision, to  know  his  fate,  reasserted  itself  now;  he  hurried  off 
into  the  park  to  find  the  woman  of  his  troth. 

Swiftly  and  cautiously  he  moved,  taking  such  ways  as 
gave  him  cover,  even  long  after  he  had  ceased  to  hear  the 
sound  of  Sonya's  playing  from  the  house,  searching  and  listen- 
ing the  while  as  one  pursuing  crime.  His  scrupulous  honour 
told  him  his  suspicion  was  unworthy,  or,  at  least,  that  he  had 
no  right  to  seek  such  method  of  allaying  it.  After  all,  the 
two  had  every  right  to  be  alone.  But  he  thrust  protest  aside, 
without  the  slightest  shame;  nothing  could  stop  him  now. 
So  strong,  indeed,  was  his  conviction  that  hidden  happenings 
were  toward  that  he  felt  it  would  be  disappointment  should 
his  search  prove  fruitless  now.  He  stole  through  the  trees, 
looking  down  each  path,  and  seeking  the  spots  which  he  knew 
Katya  most  cared  for,  holding  his  breath,  and  stepping  as 
lightly  as  he  could. 

The  sun  was  going  down ;  soon  the  twilight  would  hide  both 
himself  and  those  he  sought.  Every  minute  was  precious. 
He  moved  as  one  walking  in  a  sleep,  his  senses  alert  upon  the 
way,  his  thoughts  far  from  the  places  where  he  trod. 

Reaching  the  lake,  he  saw  the  boat  was  gone.  For  a 
moment  he  was  checked.  No  possibility  of  overtaking  or  even 
approaching  them.  Out  on  the  landing-stage  he  dared  not 
go;  they  could  scarcely  fail  to  see  him  there.  Hurrying  along 
the  bank,  behind  the  shelter  of  the  reeds,  he  made  for  a  spot 
whence  he  could  see  across  the  water.  All  scruples  were  for- 


302  KATYA 

gotten  now;  he  had  no  thought  but  fierce  impatience.  The 
sun  was  nearly  gone,  sinking  behind  the  poplars  on  the  oppo- 
site shore.  In  twenty  minutes — less — the  darkness  would 
have  covered  all  about  him. 

Suddenly  he  stopped  and  crouched  behind  the  reeds. 
There  were  voices. 

"  Petya,  I  will  not  have  it.  Row  back  at  once — you  hear 
me  !  Anyone  can  see  us  here.  What  would  Farringham 
think,  and  all  of  them  ?" 

The  answer  was  drowned  in  the  plash  of  oars.  Then  came  a 
swishing  of  the  reeds ;  from  his  hiding-place  Farringham  could 
see  the  high  tops  swaying  straight  ahead  of  him. 

"  There !"  The  oars  rattled  on  the  thwarts.  "Mr. 
Farringham  will  need  sharp  eyes  to  find  us  now.  No  one 
can  see  us  here." 

"  I  don't  like  it,  Petya.  If  I  had  dreamed  you  would  break 
your  promise  so,  I  would  never  have  come." 

"  Is  it  so  painful,  Katya,  to  sit  with  me  alone  a  moment  in 
a  boat  ?  You  are  not  lavish  of  your  favours,  Katya.  And 
I  have  waited  so  long  .  .  .  suffered  and  waited,  as  your 
mother  said.  ..." 

"  Petya,  Petya,  must  you  now  also  make  me  miserable, 
when  I  was  so  glad  to  have  you  here  ?" 

"  Katya,  it  is  long  years  now  since  you  and  I  sat  alone  here 
in  this  same  boat — it  was  as  hard  that  day  as  this  to  find  you 
alone — and  all  that  time  I  have  loved  no  one  but  you.  I  will 
not  say  I  have  never  cared  for  any  other  woman — I  don't 
want  to  tell  pretty  lies,  or  make  myself  seem  better  than  I 
am — but  you  can  trust  me  when  I  say  you  are  the  only 
woman  I  have  loved.  And  I  love  you  still.  It  is  true,  Katya, 
so  bitterly  true.  .  .  ." 

"  Petya,  dear  Petya,  please  do  not  say  any  more." 

"  I  know  what  was  at  the  bottom  of  it  all  that  day  you 
gave  yourself  to  Niki  here.  It  was  not  difficult  to  put  two 
and  two  together.  ..." 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  Petya,  what  are  you  think- 
ing of  ?" 

"  But  never  mind  about  that  now.  I  didn't  mean  to  say 
anything  about  it.  And  you  must  not  think  that  I  have  felt 
unkindly  towards  you  all  those  years  because  you  broke  your 
promise.  ..." 


THE  DOUBLE  FLIGHT  303 

"  I  promised  you  nothing,  only  to  write  to  you,  and  that  I 
did,  until  you  left  Priluka,  angry  and  bitter.  ..." 

"True;  I  was  wrong;  forgive  me.  I  shall  never  learn  to 
say  what  I  really  mean.  I  only  thought  how  your  words 
that  evening,  and  something  more,  something  much  more — 
how  it  all  gave  me  in  a  way  a  sort  of  promise,  or,  at  least, 
had  such  a  meaning  for  me  then  and  since.  .  .  .  Katya,  I 
can't  tell  you  all  it  meant  to  me.  .  .  ." 

"  Petya  ...  so  faithful  you  have  been  ..." 

"  If  you  only  knew  how  bitter  it  was  last  year,  when  your 
mother  invited  me  time  after  time,  and  I  could  not  get  away. 
I  hate  this  miserable  war  and  the  scoundrels  who  have  brought 
it  on  us.  No  wonder  that  the  people  at  home  demand  new 
government.  If  my  father  had  lived,  he  would  have  thought 
as  I  do — and  his  voice  would  have  had  some  weight.  Last 
year  I  had  not  one  week's  leave,  all  for  the  sake  of  that  Pacific 
Fleet,  smashed  to  pieces  now  by  the  Japanese,  or  sent  to  the 
bottom  of  the  sea.  And  see  what  sort  of  duty  we  are  put  to 
now — policemen,  in  the  uniform  of  the  Russian  Navy  !  A 
fine  employment  for  Admiral  Orloff's  son  !" 

"  Petya,  be  careful.  But  I  understand  you.  Miliukin  has 
brought  disaster  on  the  country — on  us  all." 

"  You  don't  know  how  cruel  it  was  last  year.  At  last  you 
were  free.  ..." 

"  Petya  !" 

"  I  mean  from  my  point  of  view.  I  had  passed  those 
wonderful  days  with  you  on  board  the  Admiral  Orloff.  You 
were  the  one  I  had  waited  to  meet ;  you  were  Katya — my  own 
Katya  from  the  old,  happy  days.  And  I  shall  never  forget 
what  you  said  about  those  cursed  houses  in  the  Novaya 
Ekaterinskaya.  ,  .  ," 

"  I  meant  it,  every  word.  Oh,  I  hale  those  houses,  and 
more  and  more  since  all  I  have  heard.  .  .  ." 

"  But  you  were  free:  that  was  my  thought.  You  cried,  and 
little  Anna  cried.  .  .  .  You  told  me  yourself  how  bitter  it 
was  to  be  all  alone  with  one's  sorrow — to  feel  one's  life  a 
burden,  almost  a  shame.  ..." 

"  I  have  not  forgotten,  Petya.  And  it  was  true — it  *s  true, 
even  to-day." 

"  And  I  thought  the  time  perhaps  was  come  when  you  might 
need  me.  I  know  I've  nothing  to  offer  you  but  my  true  love 


304  KATYA 

and  my  strong  arms  to  row  if  you  will  but  steer.  .  .  .  You 
may  smile,  Katya,  but  so  I  am.  And  you  do  not  know  how 
glad  I  would  be  if  you  would  only  come  to  me — let  me  protect 
you  and  the  children.  .  .  .  No,  let  me  speak  out;  let  me  tell 
you  what  I  have  to  say  now  that  I  have  you.  I  asked  you, 
on  board,  to  send  for  me  if  you  should  need  me.  But  no 
word  came  from  you,  and  it  would  have  been  difficult  for  me 
to  come,  unless  I  had  resigned.  ...  I  would  have  done  it, 
Katya,  on  my  honour,  if  you  had  asked.  Do  not  think  it 
would  have  been  a  sacrifice;  I  am  sick  with  shame  over  the 
disgrace  this  war  has  brought  upon  us.  But  only  your 
mother  wrote,  and  I  thought  perhaps  you  only  cared  to  be 
alone  here  at  Priluka  for  a  while  after  those  horrible  days.  ,  .  . 
I  told  myself  that  you  knew  best,  and  you  could  better  say 
when  you  had  need  of  me." 

"  Petya,  I  love  you  for  that.  Papa  and  mama  were 
right — you  have  a  noble  heart,  Petya.  No  one  is  like 
you." 

"  Oh,  you  need  not  say  nice  things;  I  don't  deserve  them, 
if  you  only  knew.  I  have  written  many  letters  to  you  that 
I  never  sent,  and  said  things  very  different  from  all  that  you 
think  so  fine.  But  I  tore  them  up.  I  can't  write  letters; 
they  are  always  poor  stupid  things  for  me,  and  I  say  all  kinds 
of  sentimental  nonsense  that  nobody  would  care  to  hear. 
I'm  not  much  good  for  anything.  Sometimes  I  think  I  might 
have  been,  if  you  .  .  .  perhaps  I  might  be  yet  if  only  you 
would  let  me  row,  row  hard  for  you.  .  .  ." 

"  Petya,  you  do  not  know — you  do  not  understand  .  .  ." 

"  Please  don't  cry  now  again,  Katya.  I  won't  bother  you 
any  more.  I  know  how  you  loved  your  mother — there  was 
no  better  woman  in  all  the  world  .  .  .  and  I  haven't  bothered 
you  these  fourteen  days,  have  I  ?" 

"  No,  Petya,  not  an  hour." 

"  But  I'm  going  away  to-morrow,  and  you  might  give  me 
a  word  of  hope.  If  you  only  knew  how  I  need  it,  Katya — if 
you  knew  how  I  am  starving  for  just  that  little  hope — how  I 
have  grown  all  weak  and  wretched  through  these  long  years' 
waiting.  .  .  .  Your  mother  knew.  .  .  .  Katya,  Katya,  if 
you  knew  all  it  has  meant  for  me  to  love  you,  you  would  not 
fear  to  be  a  little  kind.  ..." 

For  a  while  neither  spoke,  and  all  about  them  was  very 


THE  DOUBLE  FLIGHT  305 

still.    Already  some  pale  stars  were  to  be  seen;  the  soft 
summer  dark  was  gathering  among  the  trees. 

"  I  don't  mean  now,  of  course  .  .  ." — Petya's  tone  was 
almost  humble — "after  your  mother's  death;  I  understand 
.  .  .  and  I've  waited  so  long,  I  can  wait  still.  .  .  .  For  me 
you  will  always  be  as  you  have  been — Katya,  my  queen  .  .  . 
my  love.  .  .  ." 

"  Petya,  if  you  knew  how  gladly  I  would  1  But  I  can't, 
Petya— I  can't  /" 

"  Why  ?" 

"  Do  not  ask,  Petya,  I  beg  you.  ..." 

"  Katya,  you  must  answer  me  now.  I  can't  bear  it  any 
longer.  For  Heaven's  sake,  for  my  father's  and  your  mother's 
sake,  Katya,  for  my  own  love's  sake — tell  me  the  truth. 
Give  me  a  little  hope,  or  let  me  know  the  truth  I" 

"  I  cannot,  Petya;    I  am  not  free.  .  .  ." 

There  was  a  short,  sharp  sound  of  indrawn  breath,  and  then 
Petya's  voice,  hard  now  and  hoarse : 

"  Katya — is  it  Farringham  ?" 

"  Yes,  I  have  promised  him.  ..." 

"  When  ?    Tell  me — when  did  you  promise  him  ?" 

"  It  is  long  ago — last  year — in  the  spring.  ..." 

"  And  you  told  me  nothing — you  never  wrote.  Ah,  Katya, 
how  could  you  ! — how  could  you  1" 

"  Petya,  you  don't  know  how  hard  it  is  for  me  .  .  .  you 
do  not  know  how  gladly  I  would  give  you  the  hope  you 
ask.  .  .  ." 

"  Then  give  it  me,  and  let  the  Englishman  go." 

"  No,  Petya,  I  cannot — I  dare  not.  Oh,  I  don't  know  what 
I  shall  do !  .  .  ." 

"  Katya,  you  are  driving  me  mad.  Answer  me — are  you  so 
bound  to  this  man  that  you  cannot  or  will  not  break  with  him?" 

"  Yes,  I  am.  Petya,  Petya,  it  breaks  my  heart  to  tell  you 
so — you,  my  dearest  friend,  my  love.  .  .  ." 

"  Love  /"  Petya's  voice  was  harsh  and  cold.  "  From 
what  I  have  heard  at  Priluka,  and  from  what  you  told  me 
yourself  long  ago,  it  seems  that  Farringham  has  waited  for 
you  almost  as  long  as  I  myself.  ..." 

"  Row  back,  if  you  please,  at  once.  When  you  speak  in 
that  tone  I  have  nothing  more  to  say." 

"  Very  well.    I'll  row — and  you  can  steer.    See  where  your 

20 


306  KATYA 

steering  has  led,  Katya  1  You  bind  yourself  to  the  first 
comer — the  one  who  happens  to  be  nearest.  And  me,  your 
friend  through  all  these  years,  who  never  forced  myself  upon 
you — me  you  leave  to  perish  of  loneliness  and  hopeless  waiting. 
One  might  fear  you,  Katya,  if  one  did  not  feel  so  deeply  sorry 
for  you.  You  do  not  know  what  love  is — what  it  means  to 
live  faithfully  for  years  in  longing.  ..." 

"  Petya,  it  is  late — and  I  am  cold.     Let  us  go  back." 

From  his  hiding-place  Farringham  could  hear  the  heavy, 
broken  breathing  of  a  man  in  pain.  Then  came  a  rustling  of 
the  reeds;  he  fancied  he  could  see  their  silken  plumes  waving 
ghostly  in  the  dark.  A  moment  after  he  heard  the  sounds 
of  oars. 

Farringham  ran  swiftly  up  to  the  house,  and,  hurrying  to 
his  room,  packed  a  small  handbag  hastily.  A  minute  later 
he  was  stealing  through  the  park  once  more  to  where  the  great 
main  road  lay  broadly  desolate  in  the  summer  night. 

Not  until  he  had  reached  the  old  oak  that  is  half-way  to 
Dubni  did  he  pause,  sitting  down  by  the  roadside  for  a 
moment's  rest.  He  was  trembling  all  over,  and  he  breathed 
hastily,  anxiously,  as  one  just  escaped  from  a  pursuing 
peril.  The  beating  of  his  heart  was  violent  to  the  verge  of 
physical  pain ;  his  mind  was  chaos. 

It  might  have  been  a  minute  or  an  hour  he  sat,  before  he 
was  aware  of  lights  approaching  from  the  direction  whence 
he  had  come.  Shortly  after  the  little  one-horse  cart  from 
Priluka,  that  fetched  the  daily  post  from  Dubni,  came  by. 
Mikailo  was  driving.with  Petya  Orloff  on  the  box  beside  him. 
Almost  before  Farringham  had  realized  what  he  had  seen, 
the  vehicle  had  passed  out  of  sight  again. 

But  Orloff  was  not  due  to  leave  until  next  day  !  And  there 
was  no  train  from  Dubni  before  the  morning.  Farringham 
himself  had  made  no  definite  plan;  he  had  but  some  vague 
thought  of  hiring  a  carriage  in  Dubni  and  driving  on  at  once 
to  Koronevo  or  some  other  station  on  the  line  to  Kief.  Had 
Orloff  the  same  intention  ?  Was  he,  too,  fleeing  in  secret 
from  Priluka,  with  Mikailo,  who  had  known  him  as  a  boy,  to 
aid  his  flight  ? 

Farringham  sprang  up,  with  some  idea  of  overtaking  him. 
He  ran  a  little  way,  and  shouted.  But  it  was  too  late — the 
little  cart  was  already  far  away. 


THE  DOUBLE  FLIGHT  307 

He  stood  awhile  in  hesitant  indecision.  It  seemed  to  him 
at  last  that  one  thing  of  importance  above  all  others  was  to 
overtake  Orloff  and  tell  him  that  Katya  was  free — that  no 
Farringham  now  barred  his  way  to  hope  and  happiness.  So 
convinced  was  he  of  the  necessity  for  just  this  action  that  he 
started  at  a  run  towards  Dubni,  and  did  not  halt  till  he  was 
utterly  exhausted.  Then  came  new  doubt  and  fresh  un- 
certainty. What  right  had  he  to  dam  the  current  of  another's 
fate  ?  If  Orloff' s  sudden  leaving  were  a  flight,  as  was  his  own, 
then  it  was  likely  that  he  fled  for  just  such  reasons  as  himself  : 
fear  of  a  future  bound  to  Katya's  will,  and  bitter  sorrow  at 
the  wasted  love  of  a  whole  life.  Why  should  he  hinder  Orloff 
in  retreat  when  he  himself  had  chosen  that  very  way  ? 

Back  to  Priluka  and  confess  it  all — the  irreparable  wreck 
of  his  own  love,  and  the  means  by  which  he  had  learned  what 
he  now  knew  ?  Farringham  felt  he  lacked  the  courage;  and, 
besides,  what  would  it  help  him  to  make  a  scene  ?  Katya 
was  not  a  woman  to  be  influenced  by  passionate  words.  She 
acted  as  her  nature  was,  and  never  would  she  be  otherwise, 
whatever  man  might  for  a  moment  occupy  her  thoughts. 
If  Orloff  now  was  seeking  to  escape,  it  was  because  he  had 
realized  his  danger.  It  would  be  crime  to  stop  him  in  his 
flight,  and  lead  him  back  to  the  brink  of  that  abyss  where  the 
same  peril  waited  him,  unchanged  and  un diminished.  Far- 
ringham felt  himself  in  some  vague  way  as  Petya's  ally, 
bound  to  him  by  a  sort  of  brotherhood  of  sex.  He  dared  not 
take  the  responsibility  of  waking  Orloff  to  new  hope  that  at 
the  last  must  end  once  more  in  reiterated  bitterness  of  lost 
illusion. 

And  yet,  if  Petya  Orloff  was  of  a  mettle  to  be  content  with 
what  crumbs  yet  remained — if  he,  with  his  childish  modesty, 
his  willing  admiration,  his  patient  subservience,  could  live 
upon  such  alms  of  love  as  Katya  yet  might  give  him  in  her 
freedom — if  this  were  any  worth  to  him,  would  it  not  be  cruel 
to  hold  it  from  him  ?  A  man  of  Orloff 's  stamp  might  well  be 
satisfied  where  Farringham  himself  saw  only  poverty  and 
humiliation.  No  man  has  the  right  to  lead  another  to  his 
grave;  but  had  he  any  right  to  hold  one  back  who  felt  that 
there,  and  only  there,  was  happiness  for  him  ? 

No,  there  was  another  way.  He  would  seek  out  Orloff  in 
Dubni,  and  tell  him  everything,  from  man  to  man.  He 


308  KATYA 

should  know  that  Katya  was  free,  as  she  had  wished,  and  why 
it  was  that  he  himself  had  fled  from  the  danger  that  had 
revealed  itself  at  the  last  moment.  He  would  tell  him  all, 
keeping  nothing  back  that  might  serve  as  warning.  Then 
Orloff  must  himself  make  choice  while  there  was  time. 

This  new  resolution  restored  in  some  degree  Farringham's 
peace  of  mind.  He  felt  he  was  acting  as  honour  and  humanity 
demanded.  He  quickened  his  steps  once  more;  Dubni  was 
not  so  large  a  place  but  that  it  must  be  possible  to  find  a 
traveller  there  at  that  hour. 

As  he  reached  the  first  small  houses  on  the  outskirts  of  the 
little  town,  he  met  the  cart  from  Priluka  returning. 
"  Mikailo,  stop  a  moment;  it  is  I,  Farringham." 
"  Almighty  God  1     Is  Miyestr  Farringham  here  also  !" 
"  Mikailo,  where  is  Captain  Orloff  putting  up  ?" 
"  He  isn't  putting  up.     I  drove  him  up  to  the  relay  station 
and  woke  up  the  Jew  who  keeps  it,  and  now  Peotr  Konstan- 
tinovitch  has  taken  a  kibitka  and  the  two  best  horses  in  the 
place  to  drive  to  Koronevo.  ..." 

"  Did  he  say  why  he  was  leaving  in  such  a  hurry  ?" 
"  Very  little,  Your  Honour.  Something  about  service; 
duties  in  Odessa  .  .  .  but,  between  you  and  me,  couldn't  it 
just  as  well  have  waited  till  to-morrow  ?  And  I  didn't  like 
the  way  he  said  good-bye.  .  .  .  He's  a  splendid  fellow,  is 
Peotr  Konstantinovitch,  and  I've  known  him  since  he  was  a 
boy ;  but  still,  to  kiss  me  on  the  cheeks,  with  tears  in  his  eyes 
— h'm  .  .  .  well,  it's  nothing  to  do  with  me,  but  still  .  .  ." 

"  Mikailo,  drive  me  as  fast  as  you  can  to  the  relay  station, 
wherever  it  is.  You  shall  not  lose  by  it.  .  .  ." 

Mikailo  whipped  up  his  horse,  murmuring  a  patient  query 
to  the  dark  world  generally  as  to  how  far  Miyestr  Farringham 
also  now  had  duties  in  Odessa.  A  few  moments  later  he  drew 
up  for  the  second  time  at  the  relay  station. 

Captain  Orloff  had  already  left.  Farringham  ordered 
another  carriage — the  lightest  and  quickest  available.  When 
Mikailo  saw  the  horses  being  led  up,  he  began  to  protest  loudly 
against  the  indignity  offered  to  a  distinguished  stranger  by 
inviting  him  to  drive  behind  such  a  pair  of  broken-down 
beasts.  The  Jew  insisted  loudly  and  gymnastically  that  there 
were  no  better  cattle  to  be  had  in  all  Ukraine.  The  question 
of  payment  gave  rise  to  further  dispute, '  Mikailo  assuring 


THE  DOUBLE  FLIGHT  309 

Farringham  that  he  was  being  basely  swindled  out  of  at  least 
five  roubles.  Farringham,  however,  was  disinclined  to  lose 
more  time  in  haggling,  and  asked  how  long  a  start  Captain 
Orloff  had. 

"  Not  more  than  half  an  hour,"  declared  the  Jew. 

"  You  lie  !"  shouted  Mikailo  furiously.  "  An  hour  at  least; 
more  nearly  two.  And  with  these  miserable  beasts  the 
English  Barin  will  not  reach  Koronevo  before  to-morrow 
noon,  as  I  am  an  honest  man  and  you  are  a  thief  of  an 
Israelite  !" 

No  other  horses  were  to  be  had,  however;  Farringham  was 
forced  to  take  what  he  could  get,  and  privately  determined  to 
let  them  run  till  they  dropped.  There  might  be  a  chance  of 
obtaining  others  on  the  way. 

At  last  everything  was  ready ;  Farringham  pressed  Mikailo's 
hand,  and  asked  him  to  recount  at  Priluka  the  circumstances 
of  their  meeting. 

"  And  say  I  will  write  as  soon  as  I  can.  Good-bye,  Mikailo, 
my  friend.  I  thank  you  and  the  others  at  Priluka  for  many 
a  friendly  service  towards  a  foreign  guest.  I  will  not  forget 
you." 

Mikailo  was  not  slow  to  remark  that  Farringham  also  was 
very  evidently  moved.  What  lay  behind  the  sudden  happen- 
ings of  this  summer  night  ? 

"  I  thank  Your  Honour  for  the  kind  words.  But  you  will 
come  back  again  soon  .  .  .  now  that  you  speak  our  tongue, 
and  are  not  a  foreigner  any  more  ?" 

Farringham  had  already  taken  his  seat;  he  turned  and 
waved  his  hand  to  Mikailo,  calling : 

"  Be  good  to  Mazeppa,  Mikailo;    look  after  Mazeppa  !" 

The  carriage  swung  out  of  the  yard,  rattling  over  the  un- 
even stones,  and  came  out  on  the  broad  road,  with  its  grass 
and  bogs,  its  sand-drifts  and  treacherous  holes. 

Many  times,  as  they  drove,  Farringham  rose  in  his  seat  to 
look  ahead  for  some  sign  of  the  man  he  was  pursuing.  But 
the  dark  hid  everything.  He  longed  for  the  day,  and  took 
out  his  watch  continually.  The  villages  through  which  they 
passed  were  silent  and  void  of  evident  life;  of  the  occasional 
belated  peasants  met  upon  the  road  was  none  who  could  give 
news  of  such  equipage  as  they  sought. 

"  Faster  1"    called   Farringham   to   the   driver.     The   boy 


3io  KATYA 

lashed  furiously  at  the  half-starved  beasts,  as  they  toiled 
along  through  mud  and  sand.  Farringham  felt  the  pace  un- 
bearably slow.  He  thought  no  more  now  of  Priluka ;  the  dark 
behind  was  as  a  curtain,  thickly  shutting  off  a  period  that  now 
was  irrevocably  ended — a  past  bound  by  no  thread  of  life  to 
any  future.  And  the  dark  ahead  was  as  a  veil  that  hid  what 
little  life  yet  held  for  him  and  for  one  other,  who  perhaps  might 
find  some  hope  to  live  on  through  the  years  remaining. 

"  Faster  1"  he  called  again.  The  night  was  fading,  and  the 
birds  awoke.  Day  broke  at  last,  and  sunlight  poured  itself 
abroad  over  the  endless  plains  of  wide  Ukraine.  Farringham 
stood  up  and  stared  out  over  the  stretch  of  road  ahead, 
watching  for  some  sign  of  a  man  fleeing  in  sorrow  and  anger, 
wounded  at  heart  and  weary  in  trouble  of  mind. 

"  Faster  !"  Was  there  no  slightest  chance  of  letting  Petya 
Orloff  know  what  news  was  hastening  at  his  heels  ?  Here 
were  two  men  who  in  this  hour  thought  the  same  thoughts 
and  suffered  the  same  pain.  Each  had  lost  youth  and  wasted 
all  a  life,  to  reap  one  bitter  guerdon  at  the  last.  Still,  there 
was  time,  perhaps,  to  save  the  one,  if  he  but  would,  and  if 
Fate  would  but  check  him  in  his  flight.  .  .  . 

The  peasant  driver  turned  in  his  seat ;  a  rest  was  absolutely 
necessary  if  the  horses  were  to  live.  Farringham  got  out, 
and  paced  up  and  down  the  road ;  he  had  no  thought  now  for 
anything  save  the  insistent  need  of  overtaking  Orloff;  his 
conscience  asked  of  him  to  save  this  man,  if  yet  he  might  be 
saved.  Impatiently  he  pressed  the  driver  to  go  on. 

The  sun  was  high  ere  he  heard  news  of  him  he  sought.  A 
peasant  working  in  his  field  had  seen  an  officer  in  uniform — 
soon  after  sunrise  it  was — in  a  kibitka  like  his  own,  but  with 
better  horses.  From  hour  to  hour  they  heard  the  same  news 
with  increasing  frequency,  but  with  exasperating  difference: 
now  he  had  passed  an  hour  or  so  ago,  now  but  a  few  short 
minutes  since;  now  he  had  taken  some  short  way  by  little 
roads,  described  in  lengthy  detail  by  the  informant,  ignorant 
of  anything  called  haste.  In  vain  Farringham  searched  with 
straining  eyes;  time  after  time  his  hopes  were  disappointed. 
The  horses,  unmistakably  weakening,  and  callous  now  to  the 
most  pitiless  lashing,  toiled  painfully  along  in  travesty  of 
speed.  All  attempts  at  hire  or  purchase  of  new  horses  led 
but  to  long-drawn  haggling  and  suspicion.  The  morning  was 


THE  DOUBLE  FLIGHT  311 

far  advansed,  and  the  distance  between  the  fugitives  from 
Priluka  increased. 

It  was  close  on  noon  when  Farringham  drew  up  before  the 
station  at  Koronevo,  where  at  first  no  human  being  was  to 
be  seen.  At  last  an  idle  iunctionary  appeared,  and  lengthily 
explained  how  a  naval  officer  had  left  by  the  10.17  train, 
having  taken  a  ticket  to  Odessa.  He  had  arrived  only  just 
in  time  to  get  away.  The  man  was  almost  certain  that  the 
train  would  get  through  to  Kief.  As  to  its  farther  progress, 
however,  he  could  say  nothing.  He  had  expressly  pointed 
out  to  the  officer  at  the  time  that  the  service  on  the  Kief- 
Odessa  line  was  irregular,  on  account  of  the  continual  trans- 
port of  troops.  An  officer  might,  however,  proceed  from 
Kief  by  military  train,  especially  if  travelling  on  service.  .  .  . 

"  When  does  the  next  train  leave  for  Kief  ?" 

"  At  3.49,  after  the  little  train  has  come  in  from  Tcher- 
nigof." 

All  effort,  then,  had  been  wasted.  Farringham  recognized 
now  that  there  was  not  the  faintest  hope  of  overtaking  Orloff, 
with  the  start  he  had,  and  the  existing  disturbance  in  all  rail- 
way service.  Moreover,  the  land  was  practically  in  revolt. 
There  was  no  hope;  Fate  had  decided. 

Farringham  wrote  a  long  letter  to  Orloff,  telling  him  all 
that  had  happened,  keeping  back  nothing,  but  speaking  as 
man  to  man.  The  letter,  addressed  to  the  cruiser  Admiral 
Orloff  in  Odessa  Roads,  went  with  the  same  train  by  which 
he  himself  proceeded  to  Kief. 

Some  days  later,  after  a  difficult  and  perilous  journey,  he 
crossed  the  frontier  into  Germany.  As  soon  as  he  reached 
home  he  wrote  to  Katya  bidding  her  good-bye.  She  wrote 
many  letters,  which  he  did  not  answer.  Later  she  sought  by 
many  ways  to  learn  something  of  his  whereabouts;  all  she 
ever  heard  was  that  he  had  gone  to  some  colony  on  the  other 
side  of  the  world,  on  some  errand  unknown. 

In  Farringham's  life  there  was  no  longer  any  place  for 
Katya. 


312  KATYA 


CHAPTER  VI 

A    DAY    OF    BLOOD 

PETYA  ORLOFF  arrived  in  Odessa  two  days  after  his  sudden 
departure  from  Priluka,  worn  out  with  weariness  and  suffering. 
He  had  come  by  military  train  from  Kief,  having  eaten  little 
and  slept  not  at  all  on  the  way.  Men  told  him  news  of  the 
revolution  in  Southern  Russia;  he  scarcely  listened.  And 
when  a  party  of  army  officers  inquired  of  him  whether  it  were 
true  that  the  first  signs  of  mutiny  had  made  their  appearance 
on  board  the  ships  at  Sevastopol  and  Odessa,  he  answered 
that  he  knew  nothing,  having  been  at  another  place  where 
he  had  looked  on  death.  The  men  stared  at  him  in  wonder, 
and  he  himself  noticed  that  his  voice  sounded  strange  in  his 
own  ears.  After  the  first  violent  excitement  followed  the 
vague  emptiness  of  mind  that  serves  as  a  sort  of  mental 
anaesthetic,  leaving  no  energy  for  plan  or  plaint,  yet  nowise 
weakening  the  consciousness  of  suffering. 

He  had  thought  of  suicide.  The  only  thing  that  had  held 
his  hand  was  the  thought  of  Pashka,  the  little  shy,  defenceless 
creature  who  waited  him  in  their  poor  lodging  in  Odessa.  He 
must  make  for  her  such  provision  as  he  could  before  he  left 
her.  That  portion  of  his  belongings  which  had  formed  part 
of  his  parents'  home  he  would  have  conveyed  to  his  sister 
Olga;  the  rest  was  to  be  Pashka's.  Mandelberg  would  know 
how  to  draw  up  the  papers  in  such  a  way  that  it  would  not 
be  taken  from  her  afterwards.  Altogether,  there  should  be 
something  like  a  thousand  roubles;  that  might  serve,  with  her 
careful  management,  to  help  the  child  over  the  first  difficult 
time. 

Once  more,  for  the  last  time,  he  would  take  his  little  true 
friend  in  his  arms  and  tell  her  his  thanks.  And  then — 
nothing.  There  was  no  rhyme  or  meaning  more  in  life ;  only 
in  death  was  peace,  and  peace  was  all  that  now  was  left  to 
Petya  Orloff  to  desire. 

When  the  train  steamed  into  Odessa  in  the  late  afternoon, 
the  platform  and  the  streets  surrounding  the  station  were 


A  DAY  OF  BLOOD  313 

occupied  by  the  military.  Captain  Orloff  had  to  report  him- 
self to  the  officer  in  command. 

"  Captain  Orloff,"  said  the  Colonel  of  Gendarmes,  reading. 
"  Thanks,  that  is  sufficient.  You  are  to  report  for  duty  on 
board  the  Admiral  Orloff,  I  understand,  and  it  looks  as  if  you 
will  have  plenty  to  do,  Peotr  Konstantinovitch.  Up  to  now 
things  have  been  fairly  quiet  to-day — about  here,  at  any  rate — 
but  there  was  trouble  yesterday,  and  we  had  to  send  for 
reinforcements  from  all  three  cruisers.  Those  quarters  about 
the  harbour  are  simply  hornets'  nests.  Peressip  in  particular 
has  become  the  favourite  haunt  of  all  the  revolutionaries  in 
South  Russia.  Heaven  knows  where  they  manage  to  get  their 
arms,  but  get  them  they  do,  and  at  the  least  opportunity 
they  fire  on  us  and  the  police  like  a  regiment  of  sharpshooters. 
There  will  be  no  peace  in  the  town  until  we  have  cleared  the 
whole  quarter."  An  orderly  came  up  and  saluted.  "  A 
moment,"  said  the  Colonel;  "  I  will  be  back  directly,  and  you 
shall  have  your  pass." 

"  I  knew  it,"  said  the  Commandant,  as  he  returned. 
"  They're  at  it  again.  Massacring  the  Jews  in  one  place,  and 
howling  for  a  free  constitution  in  half  a  dozen  others.  .  .  . 
My  orders  are  to  get  the  newly  arrived  troops  off  without 
delay.  Will  you  have  a  file  of  men  as  escort  ?" 

"  Thanks;  my  uniform  and  pass  should  be  sufficient." 

"  As  you  please.  Good-bye,  then — or,  au  revoir.  We  shall 
meet,  no  doubt,  before  long  under  fire  in  this  inferno." 

Orloff  started  off  on  foot.  There  were  no  cabs  to  be  seen, 
and  the  tram  service  was  apparently  suspended,  Most  of 
the  shops  were  closed  and  shuttered ;  the  deserted  streets  were 
patrolled  by  gendarmes  and  mounted  police.  Now  and  then 
a  troop  of  Cossacks  passed. 

The  little  flat  which  he  shared  with  Pashka  lay  in  the 
Khersonskaya,  to  reach  which  it  was  necessary  to  pass  through 
the  thickly  populated  part  of  the  old  town,  where  the  markets 
and  the  banks  were  situated.  As  the  street  names  indicate, 
the  quarter  has  long  been  principally  occupied  by  Jews  and 
Greeks,  who  to  this  day  live  there  in  close-packed  numbers. 
Making  his  way  between  the  patrols  under  the  Ulitza  Yevre- 
skaya — the  Street  of  the  Jews — Orloff  heard  sounds  of  shot 
and  shriek ;  a  little  farther  on  came  the  noise  of  shouting  and 
cheers,  suddenly  drowned  in  a  wild  howling  as  of  wounded, 


314  KATYA 

furious  beasts.     Now  and  then  a  pistol-shot  rang  out,  followed 
as  often  as  not  by  the  sound  of  splintered  glass.     There  was* 
much  to  hear,  but  little  or  nothing  to  see;  police,  gendarmes, 
and  troops  formed,  as  it  were,  a  wall  that  hid  whatever  hap- 
penings were  taking  place  beyond  their  line. 

As  he  neared  the  Deribasof  Park,  at  the  end  of  the  Kherson  - 
skaya,  the  noise  from  the  Greek  and  Jewish  quarters  of  the  old 
town  grew  fainter,  giving  place,  however,  to  other  sounds 
from  a  different  direction.  Orloff  stopped  and  listened; 
there  was  no  mistaking  the  steady  regular  crash — rifle- volleys 
from  the  north-west.  So  they  were  fighting  in  the  streets  of 
Peressip.  At  the  point  where  the  Konnaya  cuts  across  the 
Khersonskaya  he  encountered  a  company  of  infantry  moving 
at  the  double  out  towards  the  harbour.  A  stream  of  troops 
poured  past  the  house  where  General  Karatayef  lived. 

When  Orloff  reached  his  house  in  the  Khersonskaya,  he 
found  the  door  bolted  on  the  inside.  After  ringing  several 
times  without  result,  he  began  to  hammer  at  the  door.  A 
police  patrol  came  past;  the  men  made  some  jeering  remarks 
upon  the  naval  officer's  evident  anxiety  to  get  safely  into 
shelter.  "  Let's  hope  he's  braver  when  at  sea,"  said  one,  and 
the  jest  waked  a  laugh.  From  the  neighbouring  windows 
curious  eyes  observed  his  impatient  knocking. 

At  last  a  voice  called  through  the  keyhole,  asking  who 
knocked.  Orloff  gave  his  name,  demanding  instant  admission, 
and  backing  his  request  with  threats.  The  dvornik  cautiously 
inquired  whether  the  Captain  were  alone,  and  if  all  were  quiet 
in  the  street,  and  not  until  he  had  received  satisfactory 
answer  would  he  open.  Orloff  slipped  in  quickly,  and  the 
dvornik  closed  the  door  behind  him. 

"  A  thousand  pardons,  Your  Honour,  but  one  can't  be  too 
careful  these  days.  And  we  did  not  know  you  were  coming, 
or  Pakhomya  Pavlovna  would  have  been  here  to  receive.  ..." 

"  Is  Pashka  not  here  ?" 

The  old  man  looked  wonderingly  at  Orloff,  who  in  the  four- 
teen days  since  he  had  left  had  grown  pale  and  haggard,  with 
dark  hollows  under  his  eyes. 

"  No,  Your  Honour;  Pakhomya  Pavlovna  has  not  been  at 
home  the  last  ten  days — that  is  to  say,  she  has  been  here  every 
day  .  .  ." 

"  Talk  sense,  Andrei,  or  I'll  hammer  you  till  you  do  1" 


A  DAY  OF  BLOOD  315 

"  A  thousand  pardons — but  Your  Honour  is  perhaps  ill  ,  .  » 
it  looks  so,  at  least.  .  .  .  Yes,  yes,  Your  Honour,  certainly. 
.  .  .  Well,  as  Your  Honour  did  not  come  home  the  day  you 
had  said,  and  we  expected  you — Heaven  knows  the  little 
Pakhomya  Pavlovna  had  made  all  things  so  prettily  ready, 
with  flowers  and  all — flowers  for  two  roubles  at  least  .  .  . 
yes,  yes,  Your  Honour,  I'm  telling  as  fast  as  I  can  .  .  .  and 
as  you  didn't  come,  the  little  Pakhomya  Pavlovna  was  sorry, 
and,  between  ourselves,  I  suspect  a  little  afraid  to  be  alone 
these  days,  when  honest  folk  can't  stir  across  the  street  to  buy 
a  bunch  of  carrots  without  .  .  .  yes,  yes,  Your  Honour,  I'll 
tell  you  all  right  .  .  .  and  so  she  told  the  wife — I  mean, 
Pakhomya  told  her — that  she  was  going  to  stay  with  her  little 
friend.  She  hasn't  many,  but  there  was  this  one,  a  girl  scarce 
older  than  herself — little  Varya;  Varvara  Antonovna.  She 
comes  from  Sevastopol,  and  she  lives  here  with  her  parents  in 
Odessa.  .  .  ." 

"  When  did  Pashka  go  to  stay  with  her  ?" 

"  She  waited  all  one  day  and  all  the  next,  Your  Honour, 
but  then  she  was  frightened  at  being  all  alone;  she  is  a  little 
timid  thing.  And  only  natural,  as  the  wife  said.  ..." 

"  You  said  she  had  been  here  every  day." 

"  Pakhomya  Pavlovna  ?  Yes,  and  so  she  has.  Each  day, 
about  this  time,  or  perhaps  a  little  earlier,  she  has  been  here 
to  see  if  Your  Honour  had  come,  or  any  letter,  that  she  could 
get  someone  to  read  to  her:  the  little  Varya  is  clever  at 
reading.  .  .  .  But  there  was  nothing,  as  Your  Honour 
knows." 

"  Has  she  been  here  to-day  ?" 

"  To-day  ?  No,  Heaven  preserve  us,  no !  To-day  1  What 
a  thing  to  ask  1  Even  the  other  days,  when  she  sat  for  a 
moment  with  my  wife,  we  could  see  she  was  so  trembling 
with  fright  after  the  way  .  .  .  and  Varya's  parents  said  there 
were  sailors  from  the  ships  taking  sides  with  all  these  robbers 
and  murderers.  .  .  .  But  Your  Honour  should  know,  as  my 
wife  said,  that  it's  not  for  herself — no,  not  for  herself — the 
little  Pakhomya  Pavlovna  was  afraid,  but  for  Your  Honour's 
self.  .  .  ." 

"  Where  does  this  Varya  live  ?" 

"  I'll  tell  you,  Your  Honour.  Pakhomya  Pavlovna  gave 
me  the  address,  so  I  could  send  the  small  boy  and  tell  her 


3i6  KATYA 

in  caee  Your  Honour  should  come  back  again.  But  I  beg 
Your  Honour  forgive  me  a  thousand  times;  I  couldn't  send  the 
small  boy  out  to  that  place  to-day;  it  would  be  .  .  ." 

"  Where  does  she  live,  man  ?" 

"  Novaya  Ekaterinskaya,  twenty-one,  fourth  floor,  the  door 
on  the  right." 

Orloff  caught  the  old  man  by  the  breast  of  his  coat  and 
shook  him,  shouting  fiercely : 

"  You  lie,  old  devil,  you  lie  I" 

Andrei  slipped  from  Orloff's  grasp,  and  moved  a  step  back- 
wards. Then,  speaking  kindly,  as  to  a  sick  child,  he  asked : 

"  What  is  it,  Your  Honour,  what  is  the  matter  that  you 
look  so  ?" 

Petya  Orloff  sat  down  on  the  lowest  stair  and  hid  his  face 
in  his  hands. 

A  moment  later  he  raised  his  head.  "  And  you  let  her  go — 
you  and  your  wife — you  let  her  go  to  live  in  that  infernal 
place  ?"  he  asked,  his  voice  trembling. 

"  How  could  we,  Your  Honour  ?  She  did  not  ask  our  leave. 
And  whenVarya's  parents  live  there — they  are  honest  folk; 
her  father  was  a  carpenter  in  the  shipyard  at  Sevastopol,  like 
Pakhomya  Pavlovna's  own  father.  ..." 

"  But  you  knew  that  the  place  was  full  of  revolutionaries 
and  '  Intelligent!.'  " 

"  True — true  enough.  And  my  wife  said  just  that  thing 
both  to  Pakhomya  Pavlovna  and  to  Varya  herself.  But 
Varya's  parents  are  not  of  that  sort,  Your  Honour.  They  are 
honest  working  folk,  that  have  no  doings  with  robbers  and 
murderers,  and  Varya  is  a  decent  girl,  as  Your  Honour 
knows.  .  .  .  And  besides,  it  wasn't  so  bad  then  in  Peressip, 
not  worse  than  it  has  been  all  the  summer.  It's  different 
with  Jevreskaya  and  Slobodka.  .  .  .  But  if  only  Your  Honour 
had  come  back  on  the  day,  then  the  little  Pakhomya  Pavlovna 
would  never  have  left  her  home,  and  wouldn't  be  sitting  there 
now  in  fear  and  trouble,  as  she  is,  the  little  thing,  and  no 
wonder.  .  .  .  It's  Your  Honour's  own  fault,  and  no  reason  to 
strike  a  poor  dvornik  for  it.  .  .  ." 

Orloff  rose  and  took  the  old  man's  hand.  "  Forgive  me, 
my  friend,"  he  said,  "  I  am  troubled  .  .  .  ill.  .  .  ." 

"  Your  Honour  needs  not  to  ask  forgiveness  of  me  .  .  .  nor 
to  give  money.  No,  I  thank  Your  Honour  ...  no  need  to 


A  DAY  OF  BLOOD  317 

think  more  of  a  little  moment's  anger.  But  Your  Honour  is 
not  so  high  and  proud  as  some  towards  poor  people  .  .  .  and 
so  I  felt  it  more,  just  at  the  moment.  .  .  ." 

"  Twenty-one — fourth  floor — right-hand  side — you  said  ?" 

"  Yes,  Your  Honour.     But  surely  you  will  not  ..." 

"  Yes.  I  am  going  to  find  Pashka  and  bring  her  home 
with  me.  Or,  if  that  is  impossible,  then  I  shall  stay  with  her 
till  things  are  quieter." 

The  old  man  shook  his  head  in  anxious  disapproval.  But 
Orloff  bade  him  open,  and  went  out. 

The  way  to  Peressip  lay  through  the  Konnaya.  The  house 
where  General  Karatayef  lived,  and  where  Mandelberg  and 
Krushofski  had  their  offices,  was  barred  and  shuttered.  In 
this  part  of  the  street,  close  to  the  archiepiscopal  palace,  the 
firing  out  in  Peressip  could  be  distinctly  heard.  General 
Karatayef  might  well  be  proud  of  his  work.  In  there  behind 
his  shutters  and  bars  he  could  sit  in  safety  with  his  gold, 
heedless  of  the  others'  misery  and  suffering.  What  did  he 
care  that  the  great  grey  houses  which  made  the  monu- 
ment to  his  victory  at  Priluka  were  daily  splashed  and 
stained  with  blood  ?  It  might  be  that  he  trembled  for 
the  safety  of  his  property.  But  he  never  gave  a  thought  to 
the  broken  hope  and  ruined  lives  that  lay  buried  beneath  the 
mass  of  those  grey  walls  by  the  Black  Sea.  Well  might  he 
hide  1  The  weight  of  suffering  his  dominant  power  had 
caused  grew  with  his  gains,  and  cried  to  Heaven  against  him. 
The  curse  still  shadowed  all  his  mighty  work  on  that  ill- 
omened  shore — a  headstone  raised  above  the  grave  of  youth. 

As  Orloff  reached  the  edge  of  the  plateau  on  which  the  old 
town  stands,  he  saw  that  the  approaches  to  the  low-lying 
fields  on  which  Peressip  is  built  were  barred  by  troops.  Here 
and  there  a  machine-gun  stood  ready  to  receive  attack.  The 
firing  in  the  streets  below  was  slackening;  ambulances  were 
moving  up  and  down  the  slope. 

A  young  officer  stepped  up  to  Orloff  and  saluted,  asking  for 
his  pass. 

"  You  will  excuse  the  formality,"  he  said,  "  but  we  have  the 
strictest  orders.  ..." 

"  What  is  going  on  down  there  ?" 

"  We  thought  we  were  going  to  make  an  end  of  all  the 
trouble  to-day,  and  drive  the  scoundrels  to  bay.  But  the 


3i8  KATYA 

order  was  countermanded  at  the  last  moment — as  usual. 
Prince  Olenin  does  not  know  his  own  mind.  Stern  for  an 
hour  and  weak  the  next — that  seems  to  be  his  policy.  The 
'  Intelligent! '  and  their  leaders  are  more  consistent." 

"  Is  it  all  over  now  ?" 

"  Almost.     We  have  cleared  the  streets." 

"  Were  there  many  casualties  ?" 

"  You  can  see  for  yourself,"  said  the  officer,  pointing 
to  the  trail  of  stretchers  crawling  up  the  slope.  "  There 
were  no  marines  out  to-day — at  least,  not  on  our  side," 
he  added  with  a  smile.  "  And  you  may  be  glad  you 
were  not  there;  it  is  a  nasty  work.  It  costs  a  deal  of 
innocent  blood  when  our  friends  the  '  Intelligent  '  begin  de- 
manding free  constitutions  and  republics  and  what  not  all  at 
once.  The  municipal  hospitals  are  close  by;  the  women 
and  children  are  sent  there — but  we've  pretty  well  filled 
them. .  . ." 

"  Are  there  women  among  the  wounded  ?" 

"  Many." 

"  Thanks.     I  think  I'll  be  getting  on." 

Orloff  returned  the  officer's  salute  and  hurried  down  the 
slope.  From  the  endless  procession  of  wounded  came  groans 
of  pain  and  meaningless  raving.  Among  the  slightly  hurt 
who  were  able  to  walk  he  noticed  a  number  of  women  and 
children.  Prisoners  there  were,  too,  led  with  bound  hands 
under  the  escort  of  gendarmes. 

At  last  he  reached  the  entrance  to  Novaya  Ekaterinskaya. 
It  was  growing  late,  but  the  sun  still  shone  on  the  sapphire 
cupolas  of  the  Church  of  St.  Sofia,  towering  gracefully  above 
the  mass  of  sordid  slum  below. 

Some  soldiers  were  busy  hauling  at  the  body  of  a  dead 
horse  that  offered  an  impediment  to  the  Cossack  patrols 
moving  through  the  street.  Pickets  of  police  and  gendarmes 
were  posted  at  intervals  of  some  few  paces  along  the  length 
of  the  way.  The  Red  Cross  men  were  at  work  among  the 
wounded;  the  bodies  of  slain  soldiers  and  rioters  were  laid 
out  in  rows  along  the  pavement.  There  was  blood  every: 
where:  thin  stripes  and  broad  patches,  covered  with  flies. 
Some  firemen  were  removing  the  debris  of  a  barricade,  con- 
sisting of  hand-carts,  stones,  and  chairs  and  tables.  Scattered 
about  the  street  lay  pieces  of  military  equipment  flung  away  or 


A  DAY  OF  BLOOD  3*9 

dropped,  with  glass  from  broken  windows,  hats,  caps,  and 
blood-soaked  rags,  and  empty  cartridges  in  hundreds. 

The  hoofs  of  the  Cossacks'  horses  clattered  over  the  stones, 
dogs  howled  or  barked  outside  barred  doors.  From  the 
neighbouring  streets  came  an  occasional  shot,  and  from  time 
to  time  the  lifting  of  the  wounded  on  to  the  stretchers  called 
forth  a  shriek  of  pain  that  drowned  all  other  sounds. 

It  was  a  complete  victory  for  the  military.  The  revolu- 
tionaries had  fled  to  hiding,  leaving  their  casualties  behind. 

Orloff  moved  in  a  zigzag  from  one  side  of  the  street  to  the 
other,  crossing  over  to  examine  every  line  of  bodies  where 
women  were  to  be  seen.  From  time  to  time  his  foot  slipped 
in  a  mess  of  thickening  blood.  Once  or  twice  he  stopped  to 
interrogate  a  doctor  or  one  of  the  Red  Cross  men.  An  officer 
of  Cossacks,  who  had  been  observing  him  for  some  time,  rode 
up  at  last  and  asked  him  for  his  papers,  saluted  politely,  and 
let  him  pass,  taking  care,  however,  to  keep  him  in  sight. 

From  behind  the  houses  on  the  eastern  side  Orloff  could 
hear  the  breakers  from  the  Black  Sea. 

Fifteen — seventeen — nineteen — a  corner  house.  On  the 
pavement  opposite  lay  a  line  of  bodies. 

Orloff  hurried  across.  .  .  . 

High  above  all  the  scattered,  pitiful  sounds  of  aftermath 
one  desperate  cry  cut  through  the  air: 

"  Help  1" 

Petya  had  flung  himself  down  by  Pashka's  body — Pashka, 
that  lay  face  upwards  on  the  stones  of  the  war-sullied  slum, 
with  dead  eyes  staring  horribly  to  heaven.  Her  face  was 
white,  with  a  cold,  transparent  pallor,  her  dark  brown  hair 
was  loosed,  flung  forward  over  one  shoulder.  There  was  no 
wound  that  he  could  see,  but  the  childish  features  were  drawn 
stiff  in  a  horror  of  death. 

By  her  side  lay  Varya,  her  friend,  her  head  cleft  by  a  sabre 
cut,  her  face  half  hidden  by  a  thick  brown  mass  of  clotted 
blood. 

"  Help  1" 

Police  and  gendarmes  came  hurrying  up.  The  Cossack 
officer  dismounted,  and  stepped  up  to  Orloff,  who  held  the 
dead  girl  in  his  arms. 

"  Do  you  know  this  young  woman  ?"  asked  the  officer. 
"  Did  she  belong  to  this  thieves'  haunt  here  ?" 


320  KATYA 

"  Help !" 

"  What  help  can  we  give  you,  Captain  ?  Come  to  your 
senses,  if  you  please.  I  could  see  there  was  something  the 
matter  when  I  spoke  to  you  before.  Were  you  looking  for 
this  girl  ?" 

Petya  Orloff  did  not  hear.  His  tears  fell  on  the  cold  face, 
his  hand  stroked  back  the  wealth  of  hair,  and  piteously  he 
prayed  her  to  come  back  to  him  and  live. 

"  Pashka,  little  bird,  I  have  come  1  Pashka,  do  not  fear, 
I  will  never  leave  you  again  1" 

The  officer  and  the  soldiers  looked  at  each  other.  A 
gendarme  sniffed  awkwardly,  and  said  aloud:  "  Say  what  you 
like,  I'd  be  glad  to  have  done  with  this  business." 

"  Silence  1"  commanded  the  officer.  Then,  laying  a  hand 
on  Orloff 's  shoulder,  he  begged  him  again  to  be  calm. 

"  I  understand;  you  were  fond  of  the  girl.  But  there  is 
nothing  to  be  done,  Captain — nothing.  Misfortune  would 
have  it  that  she  should  be  sacrificed  for  the  sake  of  these  devils 
of  revolutionaries  that  shout  for  freedom  and  brotherhood, 
and  kill  innocent  women  and  children.  ..." 

"  You  lie  !"  shouted  Orloff.  As  he  turned  he  noticed  that 
his  uniform  held  to  Pashka's  dress ;  she  had  been  wounded  in 
the  breast  by  steel  or  shot,  and  the  blood  had  oozed  out, 
making  a  dark  patch.  "  You  lie  1"  he  said  again.  "  It  is 
you  that  have  murdered  her  !" 

White  and  trembling  he  stood  and  measured  the  other  with 
eyes  of  hate ;  one  hand  clutched  at  the  hilt  of  his  sword. 

"  I  do  not  know  what  this  young  woman  was  to  you, 
Captain — Orloff,  was  it  not  ?  But  I  presume  that  you  have 
lost  a  dear — a  very  dear  friend,  and  I  pass  over  your  last 
words.  ..." 

"  I  am  Captain  Peotr  Konstantinovitch  Orloff,  second  in 
command  on  board  the  Admiral  Orloff. ..." 

The  soldiers  drew  themselves  up  with  an  involuntary  move- 
ment, and  saluted. 

"...  And  if  you  wish  to  call  me  to  account  for  what  I  have 
said  you  will  know  where  to  find  me." 

He  turned  to  the  men.  "  I  wish  the  body  of  this  girl  to  be 
carried  to  my  house  this  evening.  Khersonskaya,  fifty-one." 

"  I  am  sorry,"  said  the  officer  firmly,  "  but  it  is  impossible 
for  me  to  carry  out  your  wishes.  The  Governor-General's 


A  DAY  OF  BLOOD  321 

orders  are  that  all  bodies  are  to  be  collected  and — with  the 
exception  of  those  of  the  military — transported  to  the 
Municipal  Hospital,  where  opportunity  will  be  given  for 
identification  to-morrow.  Relations  and  friends  will  then, 
subject  to  the  permission  of  the  authorities,  be  allowed  to 
remove  them." 

"  No  exception  can  be  made  ?" 

"  I  am  acting  under  instructions  from  the  Governor-General, 
as  I  have  said.  Speaking  to  an  officer,  that  should  be  sufficient." 

Orloff  bent  once  more  over  Pashka's  body,  closed  her  eyes, 
kissed  the  white  forehead,  and  made  the  sign  of  the  cross. 

Then,  saluting  the  officer  of  Cossacks,  he  crossed  the  street 
to  No.  21.  No  answer  came  to  his  knocking  and  ringing;  it 
seemed  as  though  all  life  had  been  extinguished  here,  as  in  all 
the  other  houses  in  Novaya  Ekaterinskaya. 

The  Cossack  officer  approached  once  more.  "  Excuse  me, 
Captain,  it  looks  as  though  I  were  personally  annoying  you, 
but  I  am  again  only  acting  under  orders.  All  communication 
between  the  military  and  the  residents  in  this  quarter  is 
strictly  forbidden.  No  one  is  to  enter  the  houses — which  is 
rather  the  opposite  of  what  we  had  originally  intended — and 
no  one  is  to  leave  them  before  it  has  been  proclaimed  by  sound 
of  drum.  .  .  ." 

"  But  this  is  sheer  brutality.  The  poor  folk  who  live  here 
are  human  beings  after  all,  and  they  have  their  feelings." 

The  officer  shrugged  his  shoulders.  "  I  admit  it  is  hard  on 
those  whose  dead  and  wounded  lie  out  here.  But  the  innocent 
must  suffer  with  the  guilty,  here  as  everywhere.  These 
revolutionary  murderers  have  managed  to  win  over  a  number 
of  men,  both  soldiers  and  men  from  the  ships.  And  we  are 
not  even  allowed  to  fetch  them  out.  We  are  to  stand  and 
wait  for  them — and  it  looks  as  though  we  might  wait  long." 

"  I  am  most  anxious  to  find  out  a  respectable  family  of 
working  people  here  in  No.  21." 

"  Impossible,  Captain.  I  beg  you  to  believe  that  I  feel  it  a 
most  painful  duty  thus  to  hinder  you  in  every  way  .  .  . 
a  brother  officer,  and  your  name.  .  .  .  But  unless  you  have 
express  permission  from  Prince  Olenin  there  is  nothing  to  be 
done." 

Again  the  two  men  saluted.  Orloff  turned  back  up  the 
slope  to  the  plateau.  The  town  here  was  as  dead.  The  short 

21 


322  KATYA 

twilight  gave  place  to  night,  but  no  lamps  were  lit,  nor  was 
there  light  to  be  seen  in  any  windows  looking  on  the  street. 
Patrols  of  cavalry  rode  through  the  streets,  crossing  and 
recrossing  the  town  in  all  directions. 

A  day  of  blood  drew  sullenly  away  before  the  conscience  of 
the  solemn  night. 


CHAPTER  VII 

FEVER 

PRINCE  OLENIN,  Count  Gavril  Dolgoruki,  and  the  Chief  of 
Police,  with  several  Generals,  and  the  Commanders  of 
the  three  battleships  were  assembled  in  Council  in  the 
Governor-General's  study. 

From  all  sides  information  had  been  received  by  the  authori- 
ties to  the  effect  that  violent  excitement  was  prevalent  through- 
out the  town  on  account  of  the  bloodshed  of  the  previous  day. 
Complaints  had  been  made  by  several  of  the  Consuls  that  the 
person  and  effects  of  peaceful  foreigners  had  been  attacked 
during  the  street-fighting  in  the  Jewish  quarter.  The  popu- 
lation in  general  protested  loudly  against  the  reckless 
butchery  in  Peressip,  which  had  cost  the  lives  of  hun- 
dreds of  innocent  persons,  without  in  any  way  contributing 
to  the  maintenance  of  peace  and  order.  Not  a  single  revolu- 
tionary leader  had  been  killed,  or  even  arrested.  The  efforts 
of  the  gendarmes  and  the  Cossacks  had  only  affected  persons 
of  no  importance  to  the  revolt  who  had  been  dragged  into  the 
disturbance,  being  in  reality  only  accidental  units.  The 
attack  made  by  the  troops  had  been  delivered  without  the 
previous  warning  which  the  law  demanded,  and  at  a  time 
when  unsuspecting  women  and  children  unintentionally 
barred  the  way  between  the  Cossacks  and  the  revolutionaries. 
As  soon  as  the  military  had  found  themselves  in  undisputed 
possession  of  the  streets  of  Peressip,  the  order  had  been  given 
to  stop  all  following-up  of  the  dearly  bought  victory,  and 
it  was  this  order  which  more  than  all  else  had  roused  the 
indignation  of  the  people  and  the  soldiers  themselves.  The 
authorities  had  let  slip  an  opportunity  of  really  exterminating 
the  leaders  of  the  trouble,  and  all  the  innocent  blood  had  been 
shed  to  no  purpose. 


FEVER  323 

The  affair  had  cost  the  troops  something  like  a  hundred 
men,  shot  by  hidden  enemies  from  windows  or  other  places  of 
concealment.  Nearly  all  the  dead  and  wounded,  as  well  as 
those  who  had  been  arrested,  were  found  to  be  unarmed ;  the 
shots  must  have  been  fired  from  the  windows  or  roofs.  In 
spite  of  this,  however,  the  Governor-General  lacked  courage 
at  the  last  moment  to  give  orders  for  a  visitation  of  the  houses 
in  the  Novaya  Ekaterinskaya  and  adjacent  streets.  Pam- 
phlets, whose  place  of  origin  it  had  been  impossible  to  dis- 
cover, derided  Prince  Olenin  for  this  weakness,  and  exhorted 
the  troops,  in  the  name  of  the  Tsar  and  their  country,  to 
act  next  time  on  their  own  initiative.  Other  sheets,  evidently 
published  by  the  "  Intelligenti,"  openly  incited  fleet  and  army 
to  revolt.  The  officers  of  both  services  present  at  the  Council 
informed  the  Governor-General  that  the  number  of  deserters 
was  increasing  with  giant  strides.  The  Chief  of  Police 
had  experienced  the  same  trouble,  especially  with  the  gen- 
darmerie. 

The  deliberations  lasted  long.  In  particular,  the  whole 
party  were  impressed  by  the  statements  of  the  Commander 
of  the  Admiral  Orloff.  He  could  not,  he  said,  distinctly  prove 
a  single  instance  of  open  mutiny,  but  matters  were  evidently 
taking  a  most  suspicious  course  on  board,  and,  worst  of  all, 
the  non-commissioned  officers  were  in  league  with  the  men, 
so  that  it  was  almost  impossible  to  see  what  was  really 
going  on. 

"  As  to  Your  Highness's  distinctly  formulated  question," 
said  the  Commander,  "  I  can  give  but  one  answer.  I  have 
not  my  men  satisfactorily  in  hand,  and  I  cannot  recommend 
their  further  employment  for  the  maintenance  of  peace  and 
order  in  the  quarters  about  the  harbour,  or,  indeed,  advise 
their  landing.  Had  my  second  in  command,  Captain  Orloff, 
been  here,  matters  might  have  been  different.  He  has  always 
stood  on  a  more  than  amicable  footing  with  the  men,  and  the 
name  he  bears,  with  his  manner  generally,  have  gained  him 
extraordinary  popularity  and  influence  throughout  the  Black 
Sea  Squadron.  But  he  is  not  here." 

"  Why  is  he  not  here  ?"  asked  Prince  Olenin. 

The  Commander  and  Count  Dolgoruki  explained  the 
situation. 

"  Orloff  should  have  returned   yesterday,"   went  on  the 


324  KATYA 

Commander.  "  He  has  not  appeared,  however,  nor  have  I 
heard  anything  of  him.  Possibly  the  disorganization  of  the 
railway  service  has  hindered  his  return." 

"  Highly  probable,"  put  in  Count  Dolgoruki.  "  It  is  several 
days  now  since  I  heard  from  my  wife,  who  was  staying  at 
Priluka  with  Peotr  Konstantinovitch.  And  she  writes  every 
day." 

The  Commander  of  the  Admiral  Orloff  suggested  that  per- 
mission should  be  given  for  him  to  put  to  sea  for  a  week. 
This  might  possibly  improve  the  discipline  on  board,  and 
would  in  any  case  keep  the  men  beyond  the  reach  of  further 
prejudicial  influence.  His  suggestion  was,  however,  em- 
phatically opposed.  No  portion  of  the  armed  force  at  hand 
could,  under  the  circumstances,  be  dispensed  with,  and  it  would 
be  impossible  to  say  what  might  be  the  effect  on  all  sections 
of  the  population  if  the  Admiral  Orloff  were  seen  leaving  the 
roads. 

"  I  am  at  Your  Highness's  orders,"  said  the  Commander, 
"  and  can  only  obey.  I  take  the  liberty,  however,  to  remind 
Your  Highness,  with  all  respect,  that  I  have  given  fair  warning 
of  what  I  fear." 

After  long  deliberation  the  Council  arrived  at  its  decision, 
which  bore  evident  mark  of  Prince  Olenin's  influence. 

As  a  sort  of  concession  to  public  opinion  arrangements 
would  be  made  for  burial  of  the  killed — both  those  from 
the  Greek  and  Jewish  quarters  and  those  from  Peressip — at 
the  expense  of  the  city.  Permission  would  also  be  given  for 
friends  and  relations  to  follow  the  bodies  in  procession,  but 
no  demonstration  of  any  kind  was  to  be  made.  In  case  of 
trouble  the  troops  were  to  remain  under  arms,  ready  to  turn 
out  at  a  moment's  notice.  Owing  to  the  fact  that  Odessa's 
two  regular  but  unwelcome  annual  guests — the  cholera  and 
the  bubonic  plague — had  already  made  their  appearance,  the 
funeral  was  to  take  place  on  the  morning  of  the  following  day. 

At  the  same  time,  however,  the  Council  was  resolved  to 
proceed  with  the  utmost  severity  in  all  cases  of  revolutionary 
activity,  whatever  its  origin  or  object.  Any  further  attempt 
at  persecution  of  the  Jews  would  be  sternly  repressed,  even 
though  made  in  the  name  of  the  Church,  the  country,  and  the 
Tsar.  At  the  slightest  sign  of  disturbance  in  Peressip  or  other 
quarters  occupied  by  the  "  Intelligent!  "  and  the  incendiary 


FEVER  325 

element  from  the  harbour  the  wards  in  question  \vould  be 
surrounded  and  occupied  by  the  troops,  so  that  none  could 
escape.  Anyone  found  bearing  arms  was  to  be  arrested  and 
brought  before  the  court-martial,  or  in  case  of  resistance  to 
be  shot  without  parley.  Houses  in  which  revolutionaries 
had  sought  refuge  were  to  be  searched  until  the  fugitives  were 
found.  Any  persons  housing  such  would  share  the  fate  of 
disturbers  of  the  peace.  The  fire  brigade  was  to  be  placed 
under  the  orders  of  the  military,  and  would  be  expected  to 
render  any  assistance  that  might  be  demanded,  also  with 
regard  to  the  capture  of  criminals.  A  considerable  sum  of 
money  was  placed  at  the  disposal  of  the  Chief  of  Police  for 
distribution  among  constables  and  gendarmes  in  consideration 
of  their  augmented  duties.  A  large  amount  was  also  voted  to 
the  Secret  Service  Fund. 

Only  officers  and  officials  of  the  highest  standing  had  been 
present  at  the  Governor-General's  Council.  Nevertheless  a 
few  hours  later  the  first  news  of  Prince  Olenin's  resolutions 
had  reached  a  little  circle  of  men  who  sat  in  a  barely  furnished 
room  in  the  Novaya  Ekaterinskaya.  Before  evening  these 
men  had  learned  every  slightest  detail  of  any  importance  in 
the  plans  of  the  civil  and  military  authorities. 

Old  Andrei,  the  dvornik  at  Khersonskaya  51,  was  talking 
to  his  wife. 

"  It  is  past  noon,  Arina,"  he  said,  "  and  we  have  seen 
nothing  of  him  since  he  came  home  last  night  more  dead 
than  alive.  I  don't  like  it,  Arina.  It's  not  natural.  It's  all 
very  well  for  you  to  sit  and  cry  over  Pashka  and  Varya,  poor 
things — I  don't  say  a  word  against  it;  but  we  should  think 
of  the  living — of  the  living,  Arina." 

"  The  Captain  is  asleep.  For  Heaven's  sake,  Andrei,  let 
him  sleep  as  long  as  he  can.  It  will  be  no  joy  for  him  to  wake 
to  his  sorrow  and  loneliness." 

Andrei  shrugged  his  shoulders  and  went  about  his  work. 
An  hour  later  he  came  in  and  began  afresh.  "  I  don't  like  it, 
Arina,"  he  said  again;  "it's  not  natural."  After  much  dis- 
cussion the  honest  couple  agreed  that  if  Captain  Orloff  had 
not  made  his  appearance  by  two  o'clock  Arina  was  to  go  up 
with  some  tea  and  a  bite  of  food.  "  Poor  fellow  !"  she  said 
pityingly;  "  there's  no  one  to  look  after  him  now." 


326  KATYA 

But  at  two  o'clock,  when  still  no  sign  of  life  had  come,  Andrei 
found  it  impossible  to  wait  longer.  He  went  up  with  Arina. 

Opening  the  door  of  the  little  flat  with  their  own 
key,  the  two  stole  into  the  bedroom.  Orloff  lay  on  the  bed, 
fully  dressed  and  sleeping  heavily.  He  had  evidently  flung 
himself  down  there  as  he  was,  on  his  return  the  previous 
evening. 

Andrei  and  Arina  exchanged  glances,  hesitating  as  to  what 
was  to  be  done.  After  some  moments,  however,  the  old 
dvornik  returned  to  his  former  view.  "  I  don't  like  it,  Arina; 
it's  not  natural."  And,  going  up  to  the  bed,  he  touched 
Orloff  on  the  arm. 

"  Your  Honour,  it  is  past  two  o'clock.  .  .  ." 

Petya  opened  his  eyes  and  looked  about  him  uncompre- 
hendingly.  "  Katya  .  .  ."  he  stammered,  and  a  moment  after, 
"  Pashka,  little  bird.  ..."  Then  he  closed  his  eyes  and 
seemed  to  sleep  again. 

"  I  told  you  to  let  him  sleep,"  whispered  Arina.  But  Petya 
caught  the  sound  of  her  voice,  and  without  opening  his  eyes 
he  asked,  "  Who's  there  ?  What  is  it  ?"  Then  suddenly  he 
sat  up  and  put  his  hands  to  his  head. 

"  Is  Your  Honour  ill  ?"  asked  Arina  kindly.  "  You  look 
sadly  enough.  I've  brought  some  tea — it  will  do  Your  Honour 
good." 

Petya  was  looking  dully  at  his  own  clothes.  "  Have  I  slept 
in  these  things  all  night  ?"  he  asked.  "  I  remember — ah, 
God  !"  The  tears  were  pouring  down  his  cheeks.  "  What  a 
sight  !  And  the  air  is  awful — open  the  window  !"  Then 
suddenly  he  gave  a  shriek,  and  wrenched  at  the  breast  of  his 
uniform.  "  Blood  !"  he  cried — "  blood  !  Merciful  God,  it  is 
more  than  I  can  bear  !" 

He  sprang  up  and  began  tearing  off  his  clothes.  "  Take  it 
away — burn  it — I  will  not  see  it  !  And  bring  some  water.  .  .  . 
Andrei,  my  friend,  it's  good  of  you  to  help  me.  .  .  .  Bring 
water — water — no,  more,  much  more  !" 

The  long,  heavy  sleep  had  cooled  his  fever  somewhat,  but 
it  was  still  smouldering  in  his  veins;  he  felt  the  water  icy  cold. 
The  old  couple  helped  him  as  well  as  they  could,  and  Arina, 
who  had  not  seen  him  the  day  before,  wept  anew  over  Pashka's 
death  and  the  Captain's  trouble,  which  had  left  such  mark 
upon  his  face. 


FEVER  327 

As  soon  as  he  had  dressed  and  swallowed  a  little  tea,  Orloff 
set  out  for  the  Municipal  Hospital.  He  walked  unsteadily; 
here  and  there  some  street  boys  jeered ;  ladies  moved  anxiously 
out  of  his  way.  Now  and  then  giddiness  seized  him,  and  he 
was  forced  to  lean  against  the  house  walls  for  support.  Passing 
a  florist's  on  his  way,  he  entered,  and  bought  all  the  white 
roses  that  were  to  be  had;  they  weighed  on  his  arm  like 
lead. 

To-day  again  his  way  led  through  the  Konnaya,  and  the 
sight  of  General  Karatayef's  house  woke  a  fury  of  passion  in 
his  mind.  But  his  thoughts  seemed  to  stumble,  as  it  were; 
he  knew  himself  that  he  was  not  clear  in  his  mind.  For  the 
second  time  in  his  life  those  grey  walls  by  the  Black  Sea  had 
seen  the  death  of  the  thing  he  loved.  There  it  was  that  the 
hawk  had  swooped  upon  the  defenceless  bird  and  hacked  the 
heart  out  of  its  breast.  Cursed,  ten  times  accursed,  that 
deathly  mass  that  had  crushed  his  happiness.  .  .  .  And  how 
could  Pashka  ever  dare  to  go  there — she  knew  how  Katya 
hated  those  grey  walls.  ,  .  .  Poor,  poor  Katya,  alone  and  for- 
saken. .  .  .  Shot  through  the  heart  as  she  went  to  seek  her 
only  friend.  .  .  -. 

Orloff  sat  down  upon  a  step.  He  told  himself  that  his 
mind  was  wandering,  and  that  he  had  better  go  back  home. 
But  he  wanted  to  say  farewell  to  Pashka  and  make  arrange- 
ments for  her  burial.  There  were  her  parents,  too,  in  Sevas- 
topol; they  must  be  informed,  as  well  as  Katya  and  General 
Karatayef.  .  .  .  Again  that  stupid  singing  in  his  ears;  im- 
possible to  say  which  one  of  him  was  thinking  sensibly  and 
which  was  raving.  ,  .  ,  And  where  was  that  other  one,  that 
Petya  Orloff,  whose  voice  he  could  hear  all  the  time  breaking 
his  own  thoughts  with  vain,  foolish  talk.  .  .  . 

A  policeman  came  up.  "  Pardon,  Captain,  you  are  not  well, 
it  seems.  Shall  I  fetch  a  carriage  for  Your  Honour  ?" 

"  Thanks,  my  friend,  that  is  no  doubt  the  best  thing.  I 
was  only  taking  some  flowers  to  Pashka.  But  they  have 
murdered  her,  you  know — down  there  in  those  accursed 
houses.  ..." 

He  put  his  hands  to  his  head.  The  policeman  went  off  and 
returned  a  moment  later  with  a  cab. 

"  Might  I  ask  Your  Honour's  address  ?" 

"  Novaya  Ekaterinskaya,  twenty  one,  fourth  floor,  right." 


328  KATYA 

The  policeman  looked  at  him  astonished.  "  I  beg  pardon, 
Your  Honour,  but  is  that  not  a  mistake  ?" 

"  What  did  I  say,  my  friend  ?  Forgive  me,  I  am  not  well, 
I  think.  A  little  fever  .  *  .  it  is  so  cold  to-day  .  .  .  and  the 
light  hurts  my  eyes." 

"  Should  we  drive  Your  Honour  to  the  Naval  Hospital  ?" 

"  No,  no.  I  will  go  home  and  rest  a  little  .  .  .  and  then 
the  flowers  to  little  Pashka.  It  is  close  by — Khersonskaya, 
fifty-one;  Andrei,  the  dvornik,  will  know.  ,  . .." 

The  policeman  accompanied  Orloff  to  the  house,  and  with 
Andrei's  help  supported  him  up  the  stairs.  Arina  had  put 
the  bedroom  in  order. 

Petya  gave  the  policeman  some  money.  "  Tell  me,  friend," 
he  said,  "  the  Municipal  Hospital  is  not  closed  before  sunset  ? 
The  bodies  from  Peressip,  you  know,  one  can  go  and  see  them 
this  afternoon  ?" 

The  man  shook  his  head.  As  far  as  he  knew  the  bodies 
were  already  coffined.  The  hot  weather,  and  the  cholera 
and  plague  .  .  .  they  were  to  be  buried  to-morrow.  He  told 
what  he  knew  of  the  Governor-General's  orders.  "  The  rest  will 
be  published  in  the  official  paper  this  evening ;  Your  Honour 
can  read  it  there." 

Orloff  told  Andrei  to  get  the  paper  as  soon  as  it  appeared. 
The  policeman  offered  to  fetch  a  doctor.  This,  however, 
Petya  would  not  have.  Behind  the  maze  of  his  troubled 
thoughts  was  yet  a  clear  recollection  of  one  resolution  he  had 
made  the  night  before:  to  free  himself  entirely  for  the  short 
space  of  time  he  intended  to  live.  Nothing  was  more  indiffer- 
ent to  him  now  than  his  service  and  its  duties;  he  would  not 
risk  the  interference  of  anyone  connected  with  the  authorities, 
not  even  a  doctor,  who  might  disturb  his  few  and  simple 
plans.  There  was  his  will  to  be  made — now,  after  Pashka's 
death,  in  favour  of  her  parents;  letters  of  farewell  to  Katya 
and  his  sister  Olga;  and  then  at  last  the  kindly  bullet — the 
rest  and  peace  of  death. 

"  After  all,"  he  said,  trying  to  smile,  "  there's  nothing 
much  the  matter.  A  touch  of  fever,  nothing  more.  We 
settle  that  on  board  with  a  little  quinine  and  a  glass  of  vodka. 
I'll  send  Andrei  for  the  quinine,  the  vodka  he  has,  no  doubt." 

They  left  him  then,  and  he  undressed  and  got  into  bed. 
It  was  good  to  rest  one's  head  a  little  for  an  hour  and  wrap 


FEVER  329 

oneself  up  warmly  against  the  unnatural  cold.  Later  on  he 
would  go  out  to  the  hospital.  .  .  . 

Petya  dozed  off.  Now  and  again  he  half  woke,  his  teeth 
chattering  with  cold ;  at  other  times  the  heat  was  suffocating 
and  the  bedclothes  seemed  an  intolerable  weight.  His  throat 
was  hard  and  dry  with  thirst,  yet  he  could  not  lift  an  arm  to 
take  the  water  at  his  side.  And  all  the  time  he  was  haunted 
by  the  idea  that  he  was  two — a  Petya  sane,  and  one  most 
troublously  mad.  Which  of  them  was  it  that  felt  a  freezing 
fear  gripping  his  heart  ?  Strange  to  look  thus  into  one's  own 
harried  soul,  as  though  observing  the  torture  of  another. 
Poor  Katya,  shot  through  the  heart — poor  helpless  bird, 
dashing  herself  to  death  against  grey  walls  on  the  shores  of 
the  Black  Sea.  Help  !  You  lie,  you  devil,  you  have  mur- 
dered her — and  she  was  all  I  had.  .  .  .  Katya,  how  could 
you  !  You  left  me  to  perish,  and  you  never  cared — gave 
yourself  to  that  other  because  he  was  near  at  hand.  .  .  . 
Katya  .  .  .  Katya — see  how  you  have  steered !  .  .  . 

Andrei  came  up  with  quinine,  and  Arina  brought  more  tea. 
Little  by  little  Petya's  strong  body  threw  off  the  fever's 
burning  weight.  When  Andrei  came  up  later  in  the  evening 
with  the  papers  he  saw  that  Orloff  was  asleep  again,  his  hands 
and  face  dewed  now  with  sweat.  The  old  man  and  his  wife 
relieved  each  other  at  watch  by  the  sick  man's  bed.  They 
knew  they  could  not  comfort  him  in  his  trouble,  and  felt 
themselves  that  their  little  help  weighed  nothing  in  the  scale, 
but  kindly  instinct  bade  them  do  what  they  could,  giving  such 
service  as  poor  folk  might  yield  to  a  poor  sick  Barin  who  had 
always  been  kind.  .  .  .  God  help  all  those  who  sorrowed  and 
suffered  ill.  ... 

It  was  full  night  when  Petya  woke,  weak  now  and  heavy, 
yet  freed  from  the  harrying  war  of  conflicting  thoughts.  His 
fingers  sought  for  matches  to  see  the  time. 

"  Your  Honour  is  awake  ?     Is  it  better  now  ?" 

"  You  here,  Andrei  ?  That's  good  of  you,  my  friend.  You 
are  kindly  souls  indeed.  I  thank  you  both." 

His  hand  closed  on  the  paper  which  lay  on  the  coverlet,  and 
the  touch  called  him  back  to  all  the  unreal-seeming  horror  of 
reality. 

Andrei  brought  water  and  more  quinine;  his  eyes  filled  as 
he  saw  how  Orloff  strove  to  keep  his  trouble  back. 


330  KATYA 

"  Now,  what  was  it,  Andrei,  we  were  to  look  for  in 
that  paper  ?  It  seems  so  long  ago  we  spoke  about  it — 
long  ago." 

Andrei  moved  the  candle,  and  Orloff  began  to  read.  A 
lengthy  exhortation,  preaching  peace  and  order  .  .  .  some 
attempt  to  represent  the  fighting  of  yesterday  as  empty 
demonstrations  of  slight  importance,  which  had  been  effec- 
tively crushed  by  the  resolute  action  of  the  authorities  .  .  . 
a  general  invitation  to  the  townsfolk  to  offer  active  assistance 
in  case  of  further  breaches  of  the  peace  by  criminal  offenders 
against  their  country  and  the  Tsar  ...  a  proclamation  an- 
nouncing the  institution  of  martial  law,  and  the  swift,  uncere- 
monial  measures  that  would  be  taken  against  all  found  guilty 
of  direct  or  indirect  connection  with  the  revolutionaries  ,  .  * 
finally,  a  detailed  account  of  the  arrangements  made  for  the 
funerals  en  masse,  to  take  place  the  following  day  at  the 
cemeteries  of  the  different  faiths. 

"  Relations  and  friends  will  be  permitted  to  join  the  proces- 
sion." Farther  on  it  said:  "  None  but  the  priests  officiating 
will  be  allowed  to  speak  at  the  interment."  And  the  notice 
dosed  with  threats  of  severest  punishment  for  any  who  by 
what  means  soever  attempted  demonstration  on  the  occasion. 

Orloff  let  the  paper  fall  and  closed  his  eyes.  So  he  would 
not  see  her  again  after  all.  Out  there  on  the  blood-stained 
pavement  of  that  hellish  slum  he  had  held  her  for  the  last 
time  in  his  arms,  and  said  his  last  thanks  for  her  faithful 
comradeship  and  service,  her  childish,  tender  love  through  all 
those  lonely  years.  .  .  .  Pashka — his  little  shy  bird,  the 
gentle  child,  his  friend,  that  murderers  had  taken.  .  .  .  Peace 
with  her  pure  soul.  They  should  meet  now,  soon,  and  where 
no  murderers  could  come.  .  .  . 

"  Andrei,"  said  Petya  to  the  old  man,  "  I  am  a  friend  of 
Paskha,  and  I  am  going  to  the  funeral.  Tell  Arina  to  wake 
me  at  eight  if  I  am  not  up — I  am  heavy  and  sleepy  still — and 
my  uniform — full  dress.  I  will  follow  the  coffin  from  the 
hospital  to  the  cemetery." 

"  Heaven  bless  Your  Honour.  Such  goodness  !  Pashka 
had  never  dreamed  .  .  ." 

"  Never  mind  about  that,  Andrei.     You  don't  know.  .  .  ." 

"  Admiral  Orloff 's  son — and  in  full  dress  !  I  know  what  I 
think,  Your  Honour,  and  what  all  the  town  will  think.  .  .  . 


FEVER  331 

It's  easy  to  see  Your  Honour's  heart  is  little  changed — for  all 
the  illness.  ..." 

"  Andrei,  give  me  some  more  quinine,  and  get  to  bed  your- 
self. I  will  not  forget  your  goodness,  both  of  you.  Heaven 
reward  you  for  it,  my  friend." 

Arina  had  filled  what  she  could  find  of  vases  and  jugs  with 
the  white  roses  for  Pashka's  bier.  The  flowers  hung  their 
heads  on  the  slender  stalks,  their  perfume  came  and  went  in 
waves  through  the  room  where  Petya  Orloff  glided  through 
tears  to  sleep  in  the  summer  night.  No  one  in  all  the  world 
now  needed  him;  no  one  there  was  now  to  protect  or  serve. 
No  one  that  cared  for  all  his  love;  no  one  that  had  a  crumb 
of  hope  to  give  his  hungering  loneliness — no  light,  no  life, 
nor  any  need.  .  .  .  His  earliest  friend,  the  good  Princess,  was 
dead;  the  little  shy  bird  who  had  found  a  home  in  his  arm? 
had  been  murdered  by  those  devils  of  hell.  . .  .  And  a  stranger 
had  taken  Katya  when  he  thought  her  nearest,  when  she 
should  have  paid  his  life-long,  patient  love.  .  .  .  Katya,  to 
find  it  in  her  heart  .  .  . 

So  Petya  Orloff  took  his  leave  of  life — life  that  had  proved 
so  sadly  little  worth.  And  still,  above  all  misery  of  heart,  all 
horror  of  grim  death,  rose  General  Karatayef's  monument  of 
victory — the  grey,  gigantic  gravestone  by  the  shores  of  the 
Black  Sea. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

THE  MAKING   OF   A   MUTINEER 

BY  far  the  greater  part  of  those  who  had  fallen  in  the  fighting 
at  Peressip  belonged  to  the  Orthodox  Church,  and  the  train  of 
those  who  had  collected  to  follow  the  bodies  to  the  grave  was 
enormous.  To  the  crowds  that  had  stood  waiting  since  the 
dawn  outside  the  Municipal  Hospital  were  added,  as  the  day 
wore  on,  a  host  of  others,  until  the  mass  numbered  some 
fifteen  or  twenty  thousand  souls.  The  factories  were 
deserted;  down  at  the  harbour  all  was  still  and  desolately 
inactive,  as  on  a  holiday.  Shops  and  banks  were  closed; 
the  great  sea  city  lay,  as  it  were,  under  a  cloud  of  solemn 
presage  and  ill  omen. 
The  police  and  gendarmes  who  had  been  stationed  at 


332  KATYA 

the  hospital  to  keep  order  were  lost  in  the  crowd,  and  the  few 
posts  were  entirely  isolated.  There  seemed,  however,  to  be 
no  need  for  them.  The  body  of  some  thousand  men  that 
formed  the  immediate  following  behind  the  coffins  maintained 
exemplary  order.  There  was  some  crushing  and  confusion 
on  the  outskirts  of  the  procession,  especially  at  street  corners, 
where  numbers  of  new  arrivals  added  themselves  to  the 
train.  But  the  disorder  did  not  spread.  The  self-constituted 
guard  in  rear  of  the  hearses  resisted  every  pressure.  Silently, 
and  with  the  compact  solidity  of  irresilient  discipline  it  moved 
forward,  unobtrusively  ridding  itself  on  the  way  of  such 
police  as  had  originally  been  placed  among  its  ranks.  It 
seemed  a  mighty  machine,  moving  mechanically  forward,  and 
flinging  all  refuse  behind. 

The  whole  of  the  mighty  mass  appeared  inspired  by  a  unani- 
mous obedience  to  one  inviolable  command:  to  give  no 
slightest  pretext  for  the  interference  of  the  military.  No  one 
voiced  the  order;  all  obeyed  it.  No  faintest  sound  was  heard 
from  all  the  following  thousands  save  the  billowing  tramp  of 
feet  upon  the  stones.  Of  all  were  few  that  spoke,  and  every 
word  that  passed  was  but  a  whisper.  An  almost  supernatural 
sense  of  happenings  to  come  had  seized  and  held  the  marching 
mass  that  seemed  but  blindly  waiting  for  exfoliation  of  the 
unborn  event. 

Reports  were  continually  sent  in  to  Prince  Olenin  at  short 
intervals.  Always  the  same:  Numbers  still  increasing; 
columns  of  workmen  joining  the  procession;  all  apparently 
acting  upon  secret  orders;  irreproachable  order  everywhere. 

As  soon  as  the  hearses,  with  their  immediate  guard,  in- 
cluding the  officiating  priests,  had  turned  in  to  the  cemetery 
the  Chief  of  Police  telephoned  personally  to  Prince  Olenin : 

"Something  is  going  to  happen;  I  am  certain  of  that. 
What  it  is  I  cannot  say.  When  it  comes,  the  police  and 
gendarmes  will  be  powerless;  we  cannot  even  maintain  con- 
nection between  the  different  posts.  If  we  are  to  remain 
masters  of  the  situation  there  is  but  one  way:  the  cavalry 
must  charge  and  disperse  the  crowd.  But  there  is  not  the 
slightest  excuse  for  such  action  as  things  now  are." 

"  Where  do  they  came  from,  all  these  people  ?  The  order 
said  friends  and  relations." 

"  All  have  declared  themselves  to  be  such." 


THE  MAKING  OF  A  MUTINEER  333 

"  Have  the  machine-guns  ready.  The  Cossacks  and 
Dragoons  are  ready  to  move  out  at  a  moment's  notice.  The 
next  report  should  be  here  in  a  moment." 

Those  who  from  roofs  and  windows  watched  the  train 
remarked  the  presence  of  a  naval  officer  in  full  dress  among 
the  body  immediately  following  the  hearses;  he  walked 
between  two  old  people,  apparently  a  decent  working  couple. 
Some  even  pretended  to  recognize  him  as  Captain  Orloff, 
Admiral  Konstantin  Orloff 's  son.  The  most,  however,  of 
those  who  noticed  him  were  at  a  loss  to  guess  who  it  might 
be,  or  what  any  naval  officer  at  all  was  doing  in  a  procession 
which  everyone  of  rank  or  any  position  in  the  place  most 
carefully  avoided. 

In  the  cemetery  the  inexplicable  happened.  Not  a  single 
policeman  or  gendarme  succeeded  in  reaching  or  even  ap- 
proaching the  common  grave.  The  force  which  had  been 
posted  there  was  first  dissolved  into  single  units,  and  then 
forced  back  into  the  crowd  and  swallowed  up.  The  hastily 
summoned  reserves  found  it  impossible  to  force  their  way 
beyond  the  outskirts  of  the  mass.  The  Chief  of  Police  himself, 
accompanied  by  a  couple  of  constables,  managed  to  penetrate 
some  distance  in,  only  to  find  all  further  progress  barred  by 
the  wall  of  the  voluntary  guard.  He  asked  politely  to  be 
allowed  to  pass.  No  one  answered  him.  When  he  raised  his 
voice  it  was  received  with  hisses  demanding  silence.  He 
gave  a  signal  whistle,  which  was  followed  by  some  ripples  of 
disturbance  here  and  there  among  the  close-packed  crowd 
which  had  flooded  the  whole  area  of  the  place,  blotting  out 
every  path.  A  moment  later  all  was  still,  the  voices  of  the 
choir  raised  in  anthem  sounding  as  in  a  church.  There  were 
no  more  signal  whistles  now;  the  Chief  of  Police  and  three  of 
his  men  lay  strangled  under  the  immovable  ranks  of  the 
ruthless,  silent  guard. 

The  plaintive,  piteous  rhythm  of  the  anthem  thrilled  on  the 
sun -rilled  air;  thousands  of  hands  made  humbly  the  sign  of 
the  cross. 

The  isolated  units  of  police  in  the  close-packed  crowd 
nearest  the  grave  were  gently  relieved  of  their  weapons.  At 
the  slightest  sign  of  resistance  they  were  pressed  to  the  ground 
and  quietly  strangled. 

The  priests  moved  in  procession  round  the  grave,  swinging 


334  KATYA 

censers  and  sprinkling  holy  water.  The  two  old  folk,  Varya's 
parents,  were  weeping  bitterly  by  Orloff's  side.  Orloff  him- 
self had  given  his  grief  full  way,  and  stood  hiding  his  face  in 
his  hands. 

From  the  outskirts  of  the  mass,  where  the  police  had 
gradually  collected  in  force,  the  same  report  was  once  more 
despatched:  "All  quiet;  perfect  order  everywhere." 

The  plain  wood  coffins  of  uniform  fashion  were  lowered 
one  by  one  into  the  grave,  the  priests  casting  earth  on  each. 

"  Dear  God  !"  cried  the  old  woman  at  Petya's  side,  "  I 
cannot  see  which  of  them  all  is  hers.  I  cannot  see  my  own 
child's  coffin  put  into  the  grave  !" 

Many  were  sobbing  now  without  restraint;  the  sounds  of 
sorrow  rose  above  the  chanted  prayers  and  the  fall  of  scattering 
earth. 

Orloff  held  his  breath  a  moment,  as  though  seeking  to  win 
his  self-control  again ;  he  clenched  his  hands  so  violently  that 
his  one  glove  split  at  the  seam.  A  whirl  of  thoughts  danced 
wildly  in  his  brain;  there  was  fever  still  in  his  blood,  at  once 
stupefying  and  enraging.  He  could  not  understand,  himself, 
the  conflict  in  his  mind  between  the  furious  desire  to  let  his 
bitterness  and  anger  loose  in  action  and  the  weary  longing  for 
the  peace  of  death.  Here,  by  this  grave,  he  stood  among 
those  beings  to  whom  he  of  right  belonged — the  hunted  and 
oppressed,  the  lonely  and  the  helpless.  His  heart  was  full  of 
sympathy  for  these  poor  outcasts ;  he  longed  to  tell  them  so, 
and  make  them  hear.  It  seemed  as  though  the  way  to  peace 
lay  through  avenging  the  wrong  that  had  been  dealt  himself 
and  those  about  him. 

Many  eyes  were  fixed  on  Petya  Orloff.  From  the  early 
morning,  when  he  had  taken  his  place  in  the  waiting  crowd 
behind  the  hearses,  and  sought  out  Varya's  parents  to  offer 
kindly  sympathy  as  of  a  son,  the  onlookers  had  felt  well 
disposed  towards  him.  Sailors  in  mufti,  who  had  joined 
the  revolutionaries,  recognized  him;  his  name  passed  from 
mouth  to  mouth  among  the  chosen  thousand  men  who  formed 
the  heart  and  centre  of  the  insurgent  army.  What  did  he 
want  ?  What  was  his  intention  ?  He  was  treated  with  the 
deepest  respect,  and  way  was  made  wherever  he  wished  to  pass. 
But  none  save  Varya's  parents  spoke  to  him.  They  would 
let  him  follow  out  his  own  idea  if  he  had  any.  Were  he  there 


THE  MAKING  OF  A  MUTINEER  335 

ag  an  enemy  they  had  little  to  fear  from  him;  if  as  a  friend, 
then  he  would  be  worth  more  than  many  thousand  of  their 
own  rank. 

The  fall  of  earth  had  ceased,  and  the  voices  of  the  choir 
poured  out  a  requiem.  The  words  were  lost;  the  tones  made 
all  hearts  thrill. 

Petya  Orloff  saw  again  the  picture  of  Pashka  as  he  last  had 
seen  her,  his  little  shy  bird  with  the  gentle  eyes,  flung  down 
upon  the  bloody  pavement  of  a  slum,  struck  to  the  heart  as 
she  went  out  to  seek  her  only  friend.  Those  miscreants, 
murderers  of  men  and  robbers  of  men's  little  joy  in  life,  won 
power  and  honour.  No  one  to  judge  them,  no  one  to  protect 
the  weak  and  poor. .  .  . 

The  requiem  ended ;  priests  and  choir  passed  down  from  the 
boarded  mound  beside  the  grave.  The  ranks  of  the  guard 
opened  to  let  them  pass,  and  closed  again.  There  was  a 
moment  of  expectant  silence;  the  crowd,  still  perfectly  con- 
trolled, seemed  waiting  some  command. 

With  a  sudden  movement  Petya  Orloff  sprang  forward; 
next  moment  he  was  standing  on  the  mound,  visible  now  to 
the  outermost  of  the  crowd.  The  sun  flashed  on  the  metal 
of  his  lace  and  orders,  his  face  was  pale,  the  hands  that  clasped 
his  sword-hilt  trembled. 

"  Brothers  and  friends  !  I  am  a  man  as  yourselves — one  of 
the  suffering.  ..." 

His  voice  broke.  Many  could  see  that  he  was  speaking; 
only  a  few  of  those  nearest  heard  what  he  said.  A  confusion 
of  cries  went  up  from  the  crowd:  "  Who  is  he  ?"  "  What  is 
an  officer  doing  here  ?"  "  Is  it  true  that  he  is  Admiral  Orloff 's 
son  ?"  "  Be  silent ;  he  is  a  good  man  !"  "  Let  us  at  least  hear 
what  he  has  to  say  1" 

The  pressure  from  without  was  growing  violent.  A  quiet 
order  was  passed  round  among  the  thousand  of  the  guard, 
and  the  compact  body  bore  a  little  backward,  presenting  a 
buffer  to  the  force  behind. 

Orloff  gazed  as  through  a  mist  at  rank  on  rank  of  faces 
turned  towards  him.  But  he  felt  no  fear.  One  thought  he 
held,  unshaken  by  the  roar  of  interruption:  he  must  exert 
the  utmost  of  his  will  and  power  to  force  upon  these  people 
the  conviction  that  he  was  one  of  them  from  that  hour. 

Raising  his  voice  to  the  limit  of  control,  he  went  on : 


336  KATYA 

"  Some  of  you  know  what  man  my  father  was.  Had 
Admiral  Orloff  but  been  living  now,  he,  and  not  I,  would  have 
stood  here  by  this  grave  where  our  brothers  and  sisters  lie. 
They  are  at  rest,  but  all  their  life  was  lived  in  struggle  and 
persecution.  The  whip  of  wrong  has  lashed  them  from  their 
first  days,  but  even  this  was  not  enough  for  those  that  tor- 
tured them — the  Cossacks  came  with  shot  and  steel.  ..." 

The  crowd  was  breathing  like  an  angry  beast.  Orloff  flung 
out  a  hand  and  continued : 

"  They  have  brought  shame  upon  our  country.  Believe 
me  or  not  as  you  will,  I  say  to  you  that  I  have  felt  it  shame 
to  bear  this  uniform.  ...  I  put  it  on  to-day  to  honour  a  poor 
child  of  the  people  whom  I  loved ;  and  she  is  there — a  name- 
less one  among  the  nameless  hundreds.  .  .  .  But  it  would  be 
small  honour  if  the  man  himself  were  not  prepared  to  do  all 
in  his  power  in  defence  of  right  and  faith,  to  protect  the  weak 
and  help  the  poor.  ..." 

A  storm  of  furious  applause  broke  from  the  crowd.  But 
Orloff  stamped  upon  the  echoing  boards,  and  almost  shrieked 
out  his  demand  for  silence. 

"  I  say,  be  silent,  if  you  do  not  wish  me  to  turn  away  also 
from  you  !  Brothers,  I  am  a  man  who  suffers  as  yourselves. 
As  God  hears  me  in  this  hour  my  hands  are  clean.  They  are 
not  soiled  with  any  ill-earned  gold,  nor  stained  with  blood  of 
men  weaker  than  myself;  I  am  hunted  and  persecuted  as  you. 
My  hope  is  broken,  as  my  youth  was  crushed,  by  the  power 
of  wealth.  And  murderers,  who  take  the  name  of  the  Tsar  in 
vain,  have  stolen  from  me  the  child  that  was  the  one  thing 
left  to  me  in  my  loneliness.  ...  I  did  not  come  to  tell  you  of 
myself;  I  come  to  speak  of  us.  Those  great  ones  who  rule 
would  have  forbidden  us  to  speak  to-day  because  our  hearts 
are  bleeding  at  our  loss  and  burning  with  our  wrong.  But 
there  is  no  power  in  Russia  that  shall  hinder  us  from  crying, 
till  it  reach  the  very  throne,  our  claim  for  punishment  !" 

Again  the  feelings  of  the  mass  broke  loose  in  thunderous 
enthusiasm  that  bore  the  speaker  now  beyond  all  conscious- 
ness of  space  and  time,  lifting  him  as  a  wind  beneath  spread 
wings. 

"We  ask  for  punishment;  we  ask  for  justice — freedom! 
The  country  that  is  ours  shall  not  be  given  over  to  the  ruthless 
play  of  leaders  without  conscience.  The  people,  that  is  our- 


THE  MAKING  OF  A  MUTINEER  337 

selves,  shall  not  be  crushed  beneath  the  weight  of  ill-won 
power  misused.  We  pray  to  God  for  our  Father  the  Tsar — 
and  we  pray  the  Tsar  to  hear  us,  his  children,  who  suffer 
without  his  knowing  or  his  will.  He  shall  hear  how  we  cry 
our  wrongs  aloud  from  this  open  grave,  but  he  shall  hear,  too, 
that  we  promise  him  the  help  of  a  faithful  people  to  free  the 
land  from  its  worst  enemies.  ..." 

Here  and  there  went  up  a  hostile  shout.  The  feeling  of  the 
people  was  beginning  to  grow  uncertain.  The  movement  and 
confusion  on  the  outskirts  increased.  But  Orloff  had  no  ears 
save  for  his  own  words.  .  .  . 

"  Friends,  we  know  that,  poor  as  we  are,  we  have  yet 
hearts  to  love.  We  have  shown  the  great  ones  of  the  land 
how  we  could  bear  the  burden  of  suffering  they  have  laid 
upon  us.  Now  let  them  learn  that  our  arms  are  strong  to 
fight " 

He  stood  staring  before  him,  as  though  seeking  words  with 
which  to  proceed.  Among  those  nearest  to  him  all  was  still, 
but  farther  out  the  waves  of  unrest  grew  tempestuous.  Orloff 
felt  himself  weakening,  and  strove  in  vain  to  hold  some  order 
in  the  maze  of  thoughts  that  sprang  to  life  and  vanished  in  his 
wearied  mind. 

"  Brothers  .  .  .  my  friends  .  .  .  use  me  if  you  will.  I  do 
not  ask  to  be  a  leader  ...  I  am  not  much  good  for  anything. 
But  let  me  row  with  you;  row  hard  .  .  .  and  I  suffer  as  you. 
.  .  .  Ah,  God,  I  have  suffered  and  waited — you  do  not 
know.  .  .  .." 

Petya  Orloff  covered  his  face  with  his  hands,  and  staggered 
away  from  the  open  grave,  shaken  with  sobs,  and  never 
heeding  the  way  he  took. 

Wild  shouts  and  shrieks  arose,  coming  nearer.  "  The  Cos- 
sacks !  the  Cossacks  !  Help — hurry — help — the  Cossacks 
come  !" 

The  thousand  of  the  guard  stood  like  a  wall.  Not  one 
moved  hand  or  foot. 

"  Captain  Orloff  " — a  voice  was  whispering  in  Petya's  ear — 
"  we  believe  that  you  have  meant  every  word  of  what  you 
have  said.  But  by  yourself  you  can  do  nothing.  Follow  me 
to  the  carriage  that  is  waiting  at  one  of  the  gates ;  I  will  bring 
you  into  safety,  and  within  an  hour  you  shall  be  assigned  a 
task  worthy  of  your  name,  and  of  your  sufferings.  But 


338  KATYA 

there  is  no  time  to  lose — you  must  answer  now.  Is  it 
yes  or  no  ?" 

"  Who  are  you  ?"  asked  Orloff. 

"  My  name  does  not  matter.  Call  me  Leonid  Petrovitch 
Pravdin.  Your  answer  ?" 

"  Good.     I  will  go  with  you." 

The  close  ranks  opened  a  little,  letting  Orloff  and  his  com- 
panion pass,  locking  again  as  soon  as  they  had  gone. 

The  man  who  had  called  himself  Pravdin  went  first, 
shouldering  his  way  through  the  crowd,  and  making  his  way 
round  behind  the  great  grave.  Orloff  had  stood  facing  the 
opposite  way ;  no  one  could  tell  that  he  was  the  same  who  had 
spoken.  The  few  police  and  gendarmes  on  the  outskirts  of 
the  mass  had  been  unable  to  see  or  hear;  all  saluted  Orloff 
with  deep  respect. 

At  a  little  gateway  opening  on  to  the  street  that  separates 
the  Orthodox  cemetery  from  the  plague  burial-ground  a  line 
of  cabs  was  waiting.  Pravdin  made  a  sign  to  Orloff  to  hurry. 
The  cab  drove  off,  turning  into  one  of  the  deserted  back 
streets  of  the  Moldavanka  quarter.  Scarcely  twenty  minutes 
had  passed  since  Petya  Orloff  had  stepped  down  from  the 
mound  beside  the  grave. 

The  open  carriage  stopped  at  a  tenement  building  in  a  narrow 
street,  and  Pravdin,  who  had  not  spoken  during  tfee  drive, 
bade  Orloff  follow  him.  A  few  moments  later  they  stood  in  a 
room  devoid  of  all  furniture  save  a  couple  of  small  hand- 
presses  and  some  cases  of  type,  Pravdin  locked  the  door 
carefully. 

"  Captain  Orloff,"  he  said,  motioning  his  guest  to  a  seat 
upon  a  heap  of  printing  paper,  "  every  minute  now  is  precious; 
you  will  excuse  me  therefore  if  I  express  myself  briefly.  If 
you  are  the  man  your  words  to-day  proclaim  you,  and  of  whom 
I  have  heard  from  those  who  have  served  under  you,  we  shall 
not  be  long  in  coming  to  an  understanding." 

"  Who  are  you,  Leonid  Petrovitch  ?" 

"  A  man  who  has  devoted  his  life  to  the  cause  of  the  people; 
of  freedom." 

"  How  can  I  serve  you  and  your  cause  ?" 

"  They  are  fighting  at  this  moment  in  the  churchyard.  The 
Cossacks  are  cutting  into  the  crowd  nearest  the  main  entrance. 
And  you  are  responsible,  Captain  Orloff." 


THE  MAKING  OF  A  MUTINEER  339 

"//" 

"  You  and  no  other.  I  do  not  suppose  that  either  Olenin 
or  Dolgoruki  as  yet  can  be  aware  that  it  was  you  who  spoke 
in  the  revolutionaries'  cause  at  the  funeral.  I  make  no 
mistake,  I  think,  in  recollection  that  you  declared  yourself 
one  of  us.  One  thing,  however,  is  certain:  the  authorities 
have  discovered  that  an  officer  has  made  a  speech,  in  spite  of 
their  express  prohibition — and  that  has  given  them  the  excuse 
to  call  out  the  Cossacks — the  very  excuse  which  we  were  doing 
all  in  our  power  to  avoid  giving  them." 

"  My  God — what  have  I  done  1  All  that  I  do  is  turned  to 
disaster  for  those  I  care  for,  those  I  would  protect!  ..." 

Petya  had  risen,  and  was  pacing  excitedly  up  and  down  the 
littered,  dirty  floor. 

Pravdin  watched  him  for  a  while  in  silence. 

"  You  ask  what  you  have  done,  Captain  Orloff.  I  will  tell 
you.  Your  action  to-day  will  be  remembered  for  many 
generations.  You  have  spoken  words  which  no  leader  of  the 
people  could  better  have  chosen  or  pronounced.  But  you  are 
no  leader,  Captain  Orloff;  you  are  a  good  and  honest  man,  a 
man  of  strong  feelings,  and  I  understand  that  you  must  have 
suffered  much.  Your  speech  ended  in  a  personal  confession, 
in  tears.  The  effect  which  I  and  my  nearest  companions  had 
been  expecting  did  not  come — far  from  it.  Your  hearers  were 
more  hostile  to  you  at  the  close  than  they  had  been  when  you 
began.  But  all  that  will  be  forgotten.  Posterity  will  remem- 
ber only  that  you  stood  forth  in  full  uniform,  by  the  grave 
of  the  unknown  poor,  to  offer  yourself  to  the  cause  of  the 
oppressed." 

"  But  now  !  The  responsibility  for  these  poor  creatures 
that  are  being  butchered  now  by  the  Cossacks,  just  as  in  those 
accursed  houses.  ..." 

"  The  responsibility  you  must  bear,  Captain  Orloff.  But  I 
offer  you  a  means  by  which  you  may  so  bear  it  that  your  name 
shall  go  down  through  Russian  history  in  ineffaceable  glory." 

"I  do  not  seek  glory — only  peace,  peace  for  myself  and 
those  who  suffer.  ..." 

"  When  you  this  morning  took  your  place  in  the  procession 
all  was  long  since  prepared  to  make  this  day  the  greatest  that 
Odessa  has  ever  seen.  It  was  no  funeral  train  with  which 
you  marched,  Captain  Orloff,  but  an  army.  Scarcely  a  man 


340  KATYA 

of  all  those  near  you  but  was  armed.  I  do  not  hesitate  to 
tell  you  this,  Peotr  Konstantinovitch.  If  our  plans  fail  to-day, 
then  I  know  what  my  life  is  worth — as  much  as  yours,  the 
moment  you  leave  your  hiding  here." 

"  You  mean  to  say  .  .  .  ?" 

"  I  mean  that  all  the  police  who  can  be  spared  are  searching 
for  you.  But  of  that  we  will  speak  later.  I  said  the  men 
about  you  were  armed.  It  is  our  intention — and  it  will  be 
carried  out,  whichever  way  you  throw  your  single  weight — to 
make  ourselves  masters  of  Odessa  to-day,  and  proclaim  a 
Republic.  ..." 

"  Republic  !    Madness  1     I  will  never  consent.  .  .  ." 

"  Let  us  not  quarrel  about  a  word — neither  you  nor  I  have 
time  to  lose.  What  we  demand  is  a  free  Constitution  which 
gives  the  people  its  due  right.  .  .  ." 

"  That  is  quite  another  thing." 

"  But  that  we  will  have.  The  guard  that  surrounded  the 
coffins  and  the  priests  will  see  that  the  nearest  relations  of 
the  fallen  escape  by  the  road  we  took,  without  being  involved 
in  the  fighting  for  which  you,  Captain  Orloff,  gave  the  signal 
before  we  wished." 

"  Man,  you  are  torturing  me  !  For  Heaven's  sake,  speak 
out !" 

"  I  tell  you  the  truth  as  it  is,  Peotr  Konstantinovitch,  that 
you  may  take  the  consequences  of  your  own  action.  I  do  not 
know  what  my  comrades  will  determine  under  the  somewhat 
altered  circumstance  due  to  your  speech  and  the  subsequent 
attack  by  the  Cossacks.  But  I  know  that  our  plan  will  in  the 
main  be  carried  out  in  one  form  or  another — or  fail.  Already 
the  telegraph-line  is  cut  some  ten  verst  north  of  the  town; 
the  railway,  too,  is  effectively  broken,  so  that  no  troops  can 
arrive  from  outside  before  it  is  too  late.  Almost  the  whole  of 
two  infantry  regiments  are  ready  to  go  over  to  us  as  soon  as 
they  get  the  signal.  Nearly  one-third  of  the  gendarmerie 
have  deserted  already  or  will  do  so  during  the  day.  We  have 
still  the  police  against  us — but  the  Chief  of  Police  was  put 
out  of  the  way  this  morning." 

Orloff  stepped  back  a  pace  with  an  expression  of  horror. 
The  other  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"  Nothing  can  be  done  without  bloodshed,  Captain  Orloff — 
as  you  yourself  would  be  forced  to  admit  if  you  were  in  the 


THE  MAKING  OF  A  MUTINEER  341 

cemetery  at  this  moment.  But  I  have  more  to  say — and  some- 
thing which  I  imagine  will  interest  you.  The  great  majority 
of  the  warrant  officers  and  crew  of  the  Admiral  Orloff  have 
been  won  over  to  the  cause  of  the  people.  When  the  first 
shots  from  the  town  are  heard  on  board  the  vessel  that  bears 
your  father's  name,  the  Commander  and  his  officers  will  be 
placed  under  a  guard,  and  the  cruiser  will  be  in  our  hands." 

Petya  Orloff  raised  his  arms  as  one  fearing  to  fall.  The 
room  seemed  turning.  "  Are  you  playing  with  me  ?"  he 
stammered . 

"  You  have  caused  us  considerable  anxiety,  Captain  Orloff. 
We  knew  that  you  had  been  absent  for  some  time,  and  knowing 
your  influence  with  the  men,  we  were  uneasy  at  the  possibility 
of  your  returning  and  placing  obstacles  in  our  way.  But 
now,"  he  added,  with  a  smile,  "  I  think  we  have  managed  to 
convert  you  also.  All  our  anxiety  disappeared  when  we  saw 
you  this  morning.  We  had  you  in  our  power,  and  your  speech 
showed  us  what  we  had  never  dreamed,  that  you  were  even 
on  our  side.  Welcome  in  our  ranks,  Peotr  Konstantinovitch  ! 
In  the  name  of  the  people  I  offer  you  command  of  the  Admiral 
Orloff." 

Petya  was  walking  up  and  down  staring  at  the  floor.  After 
a  while  he  stopped.  "  What  do  you  ask  of  me  ?"  he  said, 
turning  towards  Pravdin. 

"  Nothing  more  than  that  you  keep  your  word,  to  protect 
the  weak  and  help  the  poor." 

"  But  this  is  rebellion — mutiny.  .  .  ." 

"  Do  you  think  that  the  weak  and  the  poor,  whom  the 
Cossacks  are  now  cutting  down  out  there  in  the  cemetery, 
can  be  protected,  helped,  by  splendid  words  and  some  few 
tears  shed  by  an  open  grave  ?" 

"  But  my  name — my  position  as  an  officer.  .  .  ." 

"  I  am  sorry  to  have  troubled  you,  Peotr  Konstantinovitch. 
You  can  leave  the  room  as  soon  as  you  wish.  The  key  is 
there."  He  pointed  to  the  door. 

Orloff  leaned  against  the  wall,  looking  down. 

"  How  am  I  to  get  on  board  ?"  he  said  at  last.  "  You 
said  yourself  that  the  police.  .  .  ." 

"  Nothing  easier.  But  what  can  it  help  us  to  get  you  on 
board,  Peotr  Konstantinovitch,  when  you  break  your  word? 
'  Use  me  if  you  will.  ...  /  do  not  ask  to  be  a  leader  .  .  . 


342  KATYA 

but  let  me  row  with  you.  .  .  .'  You  have  soon  forgotten, 
Captain  Orloff." 

Petya  felt  the  blood  burning  in  his  cheeks.  "  I  have  been 
ill,"  he  said.  "  And  I  am  still  far  from  well.  And  now  all 
this — it  overwhelms  me." 

Pravdin  made  an  impatient  movement.  "  My  time  is 
short,"  he  said.  "  And  to  be  frank,  I  do  not  wish  to  waste 
more  of  it.  I  have  misunderstood  you,  Captain  Orloff — so 
have  we  all." 

"  Do  not  say  so,  Leonid  Petrovitch.  I  meant  every  word 
of  all  I  said  there  by  the  grave.  And  you  will  find  me  ready 
to  keep  my  promise.  Help  me  to  get  on  board  as  soon  as 
possible." 

"  Have  you  now  changed  your  mind  for  the  last  time,  Peotr 
Konstantinovitch  ?  The  key  is  there,  as  I  have  said,  and  you 
can  still.  ..." 

"  You  are  my  superior  officer,  Leonid  Petrovitch.  What 
do  you  wish  me  to  do  ?" 

Pravdin  went  up  and  laid  his  hand  on  Orloff's  shoulder. 
"  Our  object  is  to  gain  possession  of  the  Government  offices 
and  the  Imperial  Palace.  That  done — and  done  it  will  be — 
we  proclaim — er — proclaim  a  free  Constitution,  and  set  up  a 
Provisional  Government.  A  similar  coup  is  being  carried  out 
to-day  in  several  other  cities.  The  railway  and  telegraph 
throughout  the  greater  part  of  Russia  are  in  our  hands;  we 
have  such  chances  of  success  as  we  have  never  had  before. 
The  Admiral  Orloff  will  aid  us  in  our  fight  against  the  troops. 
You  know  the  vessel  and  her  armament.  ..." 

"  No  man  better." 

"  And  you  know  what  invaluable  help  it  would  be  able  to 
render  us,  especially  in  skilled  hands  as  yours.  I  promised 
you  a  great  and  glorious  task.  You  will  be  known  to  history 
as  Admiral  Orloff:  the  Admiral  who  won  peace  and  freedom 
for  the  people." 

"  Good.     I  am  ready." 

The  two  men  shook  hands.  There  was  a  moment's  silence. 
Then  Petya  spoke;  there  was  a  new  note  of  eagerness  and 
impatience  in  his  voice. 

"  How  am  I  to  be  kept  advised  of  the  movement  of  the 
troops — our  own  and — and — the  others  ?" 

"  We  have  a  couple  of  your  men  who  declare  themselves 


THE  MAKING  OF  A  MUTINEER  343 

to  be  capable  signallers.  The  necessary  material  for  com- 
munication has  already  been  obtained,  and  placed  in  readiness 
at  our  signal  station  in  one  of  the  houses  in  Novaya  Ekaterin- 
skaya,  facing  the  sea.  ..." 

"  Good.    Let  us  go  on  board." 

"  You  will  easily  be  able  to  establish  communication  with 
the  shore  as  soon  as  notice  has  been  given  to  our  people  that 
you  are  in  command  of  the  Admiral  Orloff — your  own  ship  in 
every  sense,"  added  Pravdin,  with  a  smile.  "  The  warships 
are  my  department,  and  I  will  see  that  you  are  kept  informed, 
and  transmit  your  orders." 

"  But  the  two  other  cruisers,  Dniefir  and  Pobieda — what 
about  them  ?" 

"  A  number  of  the  men  have  deserted.  But  not  enough; 
we  cannot  reckon  with  them." 

Petya  began  pacing  up  and  down  once  more.  Pravdin 
looked  anxiously  at  him;  his  next  words,  however,  reassured 
him. 

"  Since  the  two  vessels  are  not  with  us,  Leonid  Petrovitch, 
we  must  consider  them  against  us.  And  that  is  a  serious 
difficulty.  I  may  find  it  necessary  first  of  all  to  prevent  the 
Dniepr  and  the  Pobieda  from  assisting  our  adversaries  .  .  . 
that  is  to  say,  from  putting  the  Admiral  Orloff  out  of  action." 

"  We  have  thought  of  that.  Our  people  on  board  are  pre- 
pared. And  when  we  wish  you  to  take  command,  it  is  because 
the  situation  may  present  difficulties  which  are  beyond  their 
power.  And  I  myself  am  unfortunately  without  the  qualifi- 
cations necessary  for  using  such  an  instrument  as  the  Admiral 
Orloff.  Now,  however,  we  have  an  Admiral — let  him  act  as 
he  thinks  best." 

"  I  wonder,"  said  Petya  thoughtfully,  "  what  would  be  the 
effect  on  board  the  Dniepr  and  Pobieda  if  I  announced  that  I 
had  taken  command  of  all  three  cruisers.  ..." 

"  Impossible !  To  show  yourself  on  board  those  vessels 
would  be  madness." 

"  That  is  not  necessary.  I  have  only  to  signal  from  the 
Admiral  Orloff." 

"  Good  !  That  is  our  Admiral !  Let  us  try.  And  now 
waste  no  more  words." 

He  stamped  with  his  heel  in  signal  fashion  on  the  floor.  A 
few  moments  later  there  was  a  knock  at  the  door,  and  Pravdin 


344  KATYA 

opened,  admitting  a  young  woman,  whom  he  ordered  to  bring 
an  overcoat  and  hat,  with  such  other  civilian  clothing  as 
would  serve  to  conceal  Orloff's  uniform.  Petya  took  off  his 
sword,  and  Pravdin  gave  him  a  revolver  in  case  of  emergency. 
A  cab  was  sent  for,  but  the  young  woman  returned  shortly 
after  with  the  news  that  none  were  to  be  seen.  Under  the 
circumstances  Pravdin  decided  to  go  on  ahead,  leaving  Orloff 
to  follow  with  the  young  woman ;  she  could  pass  for  his  wife 
or  sister  whom  he  was  escorting  home  to  be  out  of  danger. 

Pravdin  led  the  way,  making  a  wide  sweep  towards  the 
west,  where  all  was  quiet,  and  then  turning  sharply  eastward 
through  the  Konnaya  down  towards  the  Local  Traffic  Harbour. 
In  the  Konnaya  they  encountered  a  cavalry  patrol  on  the 
way  to  Peressip;  the  soldiers  passed  them,  however,  without 
stopping.  The  fighting  was  evidently  so  far  to  the  south — 
near  the  cemetery  and  the  railway-station — that  nothing  was 
to  be  heard  in  the  part  of  the  town  where  they  now  were.  As 
Petya  Orloff  passed  the  closed  doors  and  shuttered  windows  of 
General  Karatayef's  house,  his  old  bitterness  woke  furiously 
anew,  and  he  hurried  forward  with  his  companion. 

Without  any  difficulty  or  apparent  suspicion  the  three 
conspirators  reached  the  Local  Traffic  Harbour.  A  boat  was 
waiting  for  them  here,  and  Orloff  noticed,  to  his  surprise,  that 
one  of  the  rowers  was  a  sailor  from  his  own  ship  in  civilian 
dress.  The  young  woman  left  them  here,  and  hurried  back 
to  the  town. 

The  two  men  were  rowed  with  steady  strokes  out  to  the 
Admiral  Orloff,  Petya  divesting  himself  of  his  disguise  on  the 
way. 

The  boat  came  alongside,  and  Petya  Orloff  boarded  his 
command — an  Admiral  of  mutineers. 


CHAPTER  IX 

THE   ADMIRAL 

THE  warrant  officers  and  crew  of  the  Admiral  Orloff  assembled 
on  the  after-deck.  Pravdin  explained  in  a  few  words  what 
had  happened.  Orloff  then  formally  declared  himself  in  com- 
mand, and  appointed  warrant  officers  to  the  vacant  posts, 


THE  ADMIRAL  345 

filling  their  places  in  turn  from  among  the  oldest  and  most 
reliable  of  the  men.  Pravdin  noticed  that  Orloff's  sharp, 
authoritative  manner  had  its  effect  upon  them  all.  Of  the 
five  hundred  men  that  made  the  complement  of  the  ship, 
about  four  hundred  were  present.  Some  were  on  duty,  acting 
as  guard  over  the  officers  deposed,  who  were  imprisoned  in 
their  mess  amidships.  A  few  were  in  the  engine-room,  or 
in  the  stokehole,  where  the  fires  were  kept  going.  The 
remainder  were  on  shore  leave,  in  hospital,  or  had  deserted. 
Only  one  man  of  officer's  rank,  a  young  engineer,  had  joined 
the  mutineers.  The  doctor,  the  ship's  chaplain,  and  the 
purser,  were  under  arrest,  together  with  the  officers. 

There  had  been  no  bloodshed.  Most  of  the  officers  had 
been  taken  by  surprise  while  in  their  berths,  or  overpowered 
singly  at  their  posts.  Two  young  lieutenants,  who  had 
returned  that  day  from  leave,  had  been  taken  as  soon  as  they 
stepped  on  board.  But  when  once  the  ship  had  been  cleared 
of  all  its  superior  officers,  a  feeling  of  uneasiness  had  begun 
to  appear  among  the  men.  Pravdin,  whom  they  expected 
every  minute,  did  not  come,  nor  was  there  any  signal  from 
the  shore.  At  any  moment  officers  from  one  of  the  other 
cruisers,  or  a  messenger  from  the  Governor-General,  might 
come  aboard.  And  none  of  the  warrant  officers  had  sufficient 
authority  to  assume  supreme  command  in  Pravdin's  absence. 
The  uncertainty  and  inactivity  were  beginning  to  make  the 
men  nervous  and  irritable.  Some  five  or  six  made  an  attempt 
to  leave  the  ship  in  secret;  they  were  stopped  by  armed 
threats  of  instant  death.  Many  found  means  to  sample  the 
wine  and  spirits  from  the  officers'  mess. 

All  this,  however,  disappeared  immediately  on  the  arrival 
of  Orloff  and  Pravdin.  The  Admiral  Orloff  had  once  more 
a  Commander,  and  all  on  board  felt  it  a  relief  to  obey  the 
orders  of  acknowledged  authority. 

As  soon  as  Orloff  had  reviewed  his  men  and  made  his 
appointments,  he  ordered  them  to  attention,  and,  standing 
with  bared  head,  gave  the  traditional  greeting. 

"  Russian  warrant  officers  and  men,  I  wish  you  good-day, 
my  children  !" 

Firmly  and  well  in  time  came  the  accustomed  answer : 

"  We  thank  Your  Excellency,  and  wish  you  health  and  a 
happy  day  !" 


346  KATYA 

"  My  comrades,"  Petya  went  on,  "  this  ship,  that  bears  my 
father's  name,  is  from  to-day  under  my  command.  I  am 
in  supreme  authority  here;  my  orders,  and  no  others,  are  to 
be  obeyed.  You  have  understood  ?" 

"  Yes,  Your  Excellency." 

"  We  will  to-day,  and  whenever  else  it  may  be  necessary, 
fight  for  the  just  cause  of  our  loved  father  the  Tsar,  of  the 
people,  and  of  freedom.  But  if  there  is  anyone  who  does  not 
freely  wish  to  serve  this  cause  under  my  command,  let  him 
speak  out.  There  is  yet  time  for  all  who  fear  the  present 
danger  or  the  later  consequence  to  go.  Boats  will  be  ready 
for  any  who  wish  to  leave  the  ship.  You  have  five  minutes 
to  consider.  Easy  !" 

"  Is  this  necessary  ?"  asked  Pravdin  impatiently,  as  he  and 
Orloff  walked  the  deck,  while  the  men  talked  together. 

"  Pardon  me,  Leonid  Petrovitch,  I  am  in  command  here." 

"  Yet  I  must  remind  you,  Peotr  Konstantinovitch,  that 
every  minute  is  precious." 

"  However  precious  they  may  be,  you  must  give  my  con- 
science five.  That  is  all  I  ask." 

At  the  end  of  the  time,  Orloff  called  the  men  again  to 
attention. 

"  Let  those  who  wish  to  leave  step  forward  1" 

No  one  moved. 

"Once  more,  let  those  who  wish  to  leave  step  forward  !" 

There  was  perhaps  a  slightest  ripple  of  uneasiness  in  the 
ranks;  a  foot  moved  here,  and  there  an  arm;  a  head  half 
turned,  a  hand  half  lifted  .  .  .  but  none  stepped  forward. 

"  Good  !  My  comrades,  we  have  chosen — and  we  must 
now  abide  the  choice.  Hats  off  !" 

All  bared  their  heads. 

"  In  the  name  of  the  Holy  Trinity,  we  swear  to  fight  as 
Russians  and  good  men  for  the  Tsar,  our  country,  its  people, 
and  their  freedom.  This  we  swear  !" 

"  We  swear  it !"  echoed  the  voices  of  four  hundred  men. 

"  At  ease  !     Break  off  !    To  your  duties  !" 

A  feeling  of  deep  solemnity  had  taken  possession  of  them 
all.  Orloff  and  Pravdin  embraced,  and  the  men,  following 
suit,  shook  hands  and  kissed  each  other  brother-wise  upon  the 
cheeks.  A  few  minutes  later  the  after-deck  was  deserted. 

Pravdin  was  rowed  ashore  in  the  boat  which  had  brought 


THE  ADMIRAL  347 

him  on  board.  Orloff  went  up  on  to  the  bridge,  and  examined 
the  Novaya  Ekaterinskaya  through  his  glass,  looking  for 
the  signal-station.  No  signal  being  visible,  he  posted  a 
warrant  officer  to  keep  watch.  The  Dniepr  and  Pobieda  were 
likewise  to  be  kept  under  observation.  All  three  cruisers  lay 
inside  the  breakwater,  but  at  considerable  distance  each  from 
the  other;  the  Dniepr  lying  off  the  Quarantine  station,  the 
Admiral  Orloff  outside  the  Local  Traffic  Harbour,  and  the 
Pobieda  farthest  to  the  north,  fronting  Peressip. 

On  board  the  Admiral  Orloff  the  echo  of  rifle  volleys  from 
the  south-west  could  be  distinctly  heard.  Fighting  was 
evidently  going  on  in  the  quarter  about  the  cemetery.  The 
part  of  the  town,  however,  which  could  be  seen  from  the  ship 
was  so  far  quiet,  nor  did  there  appear  to  be  any  indication  that 
the  Government  officials  and  the  Imperial  Palace  on  the 
Nikolaiefski  were  threatened  by  the  revolutionaries. 

The  day  was  fine,  clear,  and  almost  oppressively  warm. 
The  water  lapped  lazily  against  the  side,  and  the  slight 
westerly  breeze  scarcely  availed  to  lift  the  folds  of  flag  and 
pennant. 

To  Petya  it  seemed  at  times  that  all  about  him  of  things 
and  happenings  was  but  a  part  of  some  dream.  He  was  so 
weary,  moreover,  that  he  was  forced  to  struggle  against  the 
constant  temptation  to  sleep.  The  fever  had  not  yet  left 
him.  The  four  days  since  he  had  left  Priluka  weighed  more 
heavily  upon  him  than  all  the  years  between  his  first  flight 
after  General  Karatayef's  victory  and  his  own  meeting  with 
Katya  on  board  that  same  ship  where  now  he  stood.  .  .  . 
Why  were  there  no  signals  from  Pravdin  and  his  men  on 
shore  ?  Inaction  was  the  worst  suffering  of  all  to-day. 
Petya  felt  ill  at  ease  on  board  his  ship,  and  avoided  in  par- 
ticular the  lower  decks.  It  was  with  an  effort  that  he  con- 
sented to  go  down  and  inspect  the  two  guns  and  the  ammuni- 
tion in  his  late  chief's  cabin ;  he  felt  like  a  thief  as  long  as  he 
remained  there.  The  doors  leading  to  the  smaller  cabins  of 
the  other  officers  stood  open,  and  traces  of  the  struggle  which 
had  taken  place  were  distinctly  visible.  Only  the  door  of 
Petya's  own  cabin,  close  by  the  messroom,  was  closed. 
Not  for  anything  would  he  go  in. 

Every  time  he  thought  of  the  prisoners  below  he  felt 
disturbed  in  mind.  The  events  to  come,  with  which  his  own 


348  KATYA 

fate  was  indissolubly  bound,  must  first  develop  before  he 
dared  to  release  the  officers  and  send  them  on  shore.  On  the 
other  hand,  there  was  a  certain  danger  in  retaining  them  on 
board.  On  account  of  the  heat  in  the  crowded  space,  he 
had  given  orders  to  open  the  skylight,  which  the  men  had 
originally  closed  with  its  armoured  covering,  and  now  a 
constant  stream  of  threats  and  warnings  came  up  from  below. 
Petya  could  not  help  noticing  that  the  men  were  as  loath  as 
he  himself  to  approach  the  skylight  above  the  mess.  Fortu- 
nately the  prisoners  were  all  unarmed,  but  when  the  new 
Commander  had  sent  a  couple  of  men  down  with  food,  the 
two  had  been  received  with  threats  and  blows,  and  rushed 
upon  deck,  refusing  to  go  down  again.  The  warrant  officers 
were  in  favour  of  offering  the  prisoners  choice  between  silence 
and  death;  Orloff,  however,  would  hear  of  no  such  measure. 
He  would  take  what  steps  he  thought  fit  at  the  proper  time.  . .  . 
In  truth,  however,  he  was  utterly  at  a  loss  as  to  what  to  do. 
He  shuddered  at  the  thought  of  any  meeting  with  the  men 
who  had  been  his  comrades,  now  that  he  could  no  longer  look 
them  in  the  face. 

Best  not  to  think  at  all,  but  only  await  events.  Pravdin's 
revolver  was  still  in  his  pocket ;  down  in  his  cabin  was  another, 
that  he  knew  would  not  fail  him.  As  to  his  will,  and  the 
letters  to  Olga  and  Pashka's  parents,  they  must  be  left  for 
the  present.  His  one  last  right  to  the  rest  of  death  none 
could  take  from  him.  .  .  .  But  his  word  to  Pravdin,  and  the 
responsibility  for  all  those  men  on  board,  who  trusted  him — 
the  oath  they  all  had  sworn  !  .  .  .  Had  he  relinquished  even 
his  right  to  die  ?  Was  all,  even  this  one  last  hope,  now  taken 
from  him,  leaving  nothing  but  suffering  and  dishonour  ? 

The  watch  reported  a  pinnace  approaching.  Petya  gave 
orders  for  the  mess  skylight  to  be  closed,  and  went  down  to 
the  deck. 

A  young  infantry  officer,  one  of  the  Governor-General's 
aides,  came  up  and  saluted. 

"  I  have  a  message  from  the  Governor-General  to  the 
Commander  of  the  Admiral  Orloff." 

"  I  command  here,"  said  Petya  shortly.     "  Your  message  ?" 

"  The  former  commander  is  not  here  ?" 

"  No.     Your  message,  sir  ?" 

"  Here  is  Prince  Olenin's  order  in  writing.    I  have  only  to 


THE  ADMIRAL  349 

add  that  we  have  not  been  able  to  get  into  communication 
by  telephone  with  any  of  the  three  cruisers  since  this  morn- 
ing. It  seems  that  both  telephone  and  telegraph  have  been 
cut." 

"  Excuse  me  a  moment."  Petya  opened  the  message,  and 
read: 

"  Send  immediately  as  strong  a  landing-party  as  possible 
on  shore.  The  party  to  land  at  the  Local  Traffic  Harbour, 
and  proceed  thence  with  all  speed  to  the  square  by  the 
church  of  St.  Sofia  in  Peressip,  waiting  there  for  further 
orders. 

"  KARASIN, 

"  Chief  of  Staff." 

A  warrant  officer  came  hurrying  up.  "  They  are  signalling, 
Your  Excellency." 

"  Good.  Take  down  the  message."  Orloff  signed  the 
receipt  for  the  message  with  the  words  "  Commander  of 
Admiral  Orloff,"  and  handed  it  back  to  the  officer. 

"  What  is  happening  on  shore  ?"  he  asked. 

"I  know  very  little  of  what  is  going  on;  I  have  come 
straight  from  the  office.  The  first  reports  stated  that  all  was 
quiet.  Then,  an  hour  or  so  ago,  came  a  rumour  that  two 
regiments  of  infantry  had  joined  the  revolutionaries.  There  is 
also  some  story  of  a  naval  officer's  having  placed  himself  at 
the  head  of  a  mob  of  workmen,  causing  riot  and  bloodshed  in 
the  cemetery.  But  there  is  no  believing  all  the  rumours  that 
are  continually  coming  in.  All  that  I  know  for  certain  is 
that  there  is  a  pitched  battle  going  on  near  the  Municipal 
Hospital,  and  we  are  trying  to  concentrate  a  strong  force  at 
Peressip.  It  is  war  in  earnest  to-day — we  are  going  to  clear 
the  place." 

"  At  the  hospital  ?  I  thought  it  was  at  the  cemetery  and 
near  the  railway-station." 

"  At  first,  yes.  But  we  drove  the  scoundrels  back  an 
hour  since.  They  turned  tail,  like  the  cowardly  mob  they  are. 
Some  of  them  tried  to  reach  the  Nikolaiefski,  and  went  up 
towards  the  Palace,  but  it  came  to  nothing.  To  tell  the 
truth,  I  cannot  give  you  any  proper  idea  of  what  is  going  on, 
as  I  know  nothing  beyond  the  reports  which  have  passed 
through  my  own  hands.  As  far  as  I  know,  the  revolutionaries, 


350  KATYA 

with  the  mutineers  from  among  the  military,  have  taken  up 
a  position  by  the  Municipal  Hospital,  and  are  defending  the 
entrance  to  Peressip  as  though  it  were  their  fortress." 

"  But  the  Governor-General's  orders  are  that  my  men  are 
to  march  to  the  church  of  St.  Sofia  in  Peressip.  How  am  I 
to  understand  that  ?  Is  the  way  already  cleared  ?" 

"  Not  as  far  as  I  know.  But  we  have  outflanked  the 
scoundrels  there.  Troops  are  moving  out  behind  them  from 
the  south-west;  and  now  the  landing-parties  are  to  cut  them 
off  from  the  water-side.  I  have  further  messages  for  the 
Dniepr  and  Pobieda,  which  are  probably  identical  with 
yours." 

Petya  drew  a  deep  breath.  The  officer  saluted,  and  was 
about  to  retire. 

"  One  moment,  sir,"  said  Orloff,  in  a  tone  of  command. 
"  Give  me  your  messages,  and  I  will  signal  them  to  the 
cruisers." 

The  officer  smiled.  "  Most  kind  of  you,  Captain.  But  you 
can  scarcely  mean  that  I  should  do  as  you  say.  An  order  is 
an  order,  and  I  have  the  express  instructions  of  the  Chief 
of  Staff  to  deliver  them  to  the  respective  Commanders  in 
person." 

"  How  many  men  have  you  with  you  in  the  pinnace  ?" 
asked  Orloff  suddenly.  The  officer  stared  in  astonishment, 
and  he  repeated  his  question. 

"  Really,  I  never  thought  to  look.  Two,  I  suppose,  as 
usual." 

Petya  Orloff  gave  a  whispered  order  to  one  of  the  watch, 
who  hurried  off,  and  returned  with  six  men  armed  with  rifles. 
Meanwhile  Orloff  was  holding  the  officer  in  talk. 

"  You  will  save  time  by  signalling  from  here.  We  ought 
to  have  wireless,  of  course,  but  that  triumph  of  human 
ingenuity  has  not  yet  reached  the  Black  Sea  in  the  year  of 
grace  1905.  Still,  our  signals  are  good  enough." 

"  Impossible,  Captain.     I  cannot  understand  ..." 

"  Very  good."  Petya  raised  his  voice  to  the  pitch  of 
command.  "  Surround  that  officer."  It  was  done  in  a 
moment.  "  I  order  you,  sir,  to  deliver  up  those  messages." 

"  What  does  this  mean  ?  You  would  force  me  ?  .  .  . 
Never  1"  The  officer  laid  his  hand  on  his  sword. 

"  Arrest  him  !" 


THE  ADMIRAL  351 

There  was  a  short  struggle,  and  the  Governor's  messenger 
lay  on  the  deck,  held  down  by  two  of  the  men. 

"  Disarm  him.  Give  me  what  papers  he  carries,  and  see 
that  he  does  not  jump  overboard." 

The  messages  for  the  Dniepr  and  Pobieda  were  almost 
identical  with  that  addressed  to  the  Admiral  Orloff.  Petya 
put  them  in  his  pocket. 

"  Place  the  officer  below  with  the  other  prisoners.  Get  the 
men  from  the  pinnace  on  board  and  place  them  under 
guard." 

Orloff  hurried  up  on  the  bridge,  where  a  couple  of  warrant 
officers  were  busy  taking  down  the  signals  from  Novaya 
Ekaterinskaya.  It  was  a  matter  of  considerable  difficulty 
to  read  them  off,  for  the  man  who  was  despatching  made 
continual  errors  and  corrections,  breaking  off  in  the  middle  of  a 
word  to  begin  again,  and  at  times  apparently  forgetting  what 
he  had  originally  intended  to  express.  Petya  thought  for  a 
moment  of  sending  a  couple  of  capable  men  on  shore,  to 
take  over  charge  of  the  signal-station.  But  on  second 
thoughts  he  relinquished  the  idea.  Peressip  being  cut  off 
by  the  troops  from  the  town  side,  it  would  be  handing  his 
men  over  to  the  enemy. 

After  some  time  the  signals  had  been  so  far  deciphered  as 
to  permit  of  Petya's  forming  some  idea,  with  the  help  of 
the  information  he  had  gained  from  the  Governor's  messenger, 
as  to  the  situation  on  shore.  The  attack  on  the  Government 
offices  and  the  Palace  had  apparently  been  repulsed  or  with- 
drawn. The  scene  of  operations  at  the  moment  was  the 
ground  near  the  Municipal  Hospital,  where  the  plateau  on 
which  the  old  town  is  built  falls  steeply  away  to  the  low-lying 
fields  about  Peressip.  This  quarter  was  invisible  from  the 
sea,  and  there  were  no  plans  of  the  town  on  board  by  means 
of  which  he  could  direct  his  fire  against  the  unseen  target. 
Petya  would  have  blown  his  brains  out  rather  than  bombard 
the  hospitals.  There  was  thus  no  possibility  of  any  present 
interference  with  the  course  of  events  on  land. 

Moreover,  the  signals  merely  ordered  him  to  prevent  any 
advance  of  the  troops  against  Peressip  from  the  south-east, 
the  side  nearest  the  sea,  where  the  low  ground  was  crossed 
by  the  roads  leading  to  and  from  the  Local  Traffic  Harbour. 
This  could  be  done.  The  Admiral  Orloff  lay  in  such  a  position 


352  KATYA 

as  to  effectively  command  the  spot,  which  could  be  easily 
observed  through  the  glass,  and  swept  by  searchlights  after 
dark. 

Petya  inquired  of  some  of  his  subordinates  why  Peressip 
was  of  such  signal  importance  to  the  revolutionaries — "  our 
people  " — and  learned  much  that  he  had  not  known  before. 
Peressip  was  the  arsenal  of  the  revolutionary  army,  contain- 
ing store  of  weapons  which  they  had  spent  months  in  collect- 
ing. It  was  the  residence  of  many  of  their  supporters,  and 
the  headquarters  of  the  directing  staff.  Papers  and  plans, 
names  and  addresses  of  hundreds  of  revolutionaries  all  over 
Russia,  the  most  important  secrets  of  their  whole  organiza- 
tion were  hidden  there.  If  these  were  to  fall  into  the  hands 
of  the  authorities  it  would  mean  disaster  to  thousands  and 
the  ruin  of  years  of  work.  There  were  also  large  sums  of 
ready  money,  materials  for  the  manufacture  of  bombs,  secret 
printing  presses,  and  all  the  other  tools  of  revolution.  Peres- 
sip  was  their  fortress.  The  attack  on  the  Government  offices 
and  the  Palace  having  failed,  the  next  thing  was  to  main- 
tain possession  of  Peressip  and  organize  from  there  new  plans 
of  campaign. 

A  new  signal  came  through,  clearer  this  time  than  the  last  : 
"  Troops  with  machine-guns  moving  down  towards  the  Local 
Traffic  Harbour." 

Action  at  last ! 

"  To  quarters  !" 

Petya  Orloff  took  up  his  place  in  the  armoured  conning- 
tower,  and  here  forgot  for  a  moment  all  save  the  task  imme- 
diately before  him.  He  marked  down  every  spot  along  the 
coast  which  the  troops  would  have  to  pass  on  their  way  to 
Peressip.  He  calculated  distances  and  angles,  searching  with 
delicate  instruments  earth  and  sky  and  sea  for  every  point 
to  strengthen  his  design.  And  as  his  plans  took  form  his 
will  was  silently  transmitted  from  the  intricate  keyboard 
in  the  tower  to  each  great  gun  in  turn.  Without  a  spoken 
word,  the  mighty  engines  turned  their  threatening  throats, 
gliding  on  noiseless  mechanism  into  place,  the  men  beside 
them  watching  at  tension  for  the  signal,  swifter  than  thought, 
which  should  loose  the  death- filled  quarrels  towards  their 
mark. 

Petya  stood  isolated  in  his  tower,  shut  off  from  even  sound 


THE  ADMIRAL  353 

of  things  without.  The  periscope  showed  the  coastline  down 
towards  the  harbour  as  clearly  as  the  strongest  glass;  the 
telephone  gave  brief  reports  from  time  to  time.  The  Admiral 
Orloff  was  ready. 

"  The  troops  !     Out  from   the  Primorskaya  !"   came  the 
report.     The  periscope  verified  the  words. 
Petya  Orloff  made  the  sign  of  the  cross. 
A  second  later  the  men  at  the  great  thirty-centimetre  gun 
read  off  the  order,  "  Ready  !" 

Petya's  fingers  were  fixed  to  the  keyboard;  his  eye  never 
left  the  periscope,  or  his  ear  the  microphone. 

The  troops  were  pouring  out  into  the  open — infantry  with 
machine-guns.  There  were  some  hand-carts,  probably  am- 
munition, behind. 

The  foremost  ranks  had  reached  the  spot  marked  out  for 
the  guns.  A  few  moments  later  some  four  or  five  hundred 
men  had  swung  out  from  the  shelter  of  the  houses  on  to  the 
unprotected  road  along  the  coast. 

Orloff  closed  down  a  key;  a  signal  shivered  by  the  after 
gun: 
"  Fire !" 

A  faint  flash  played  for  a  moment  against  the  sunlight, 
and  giant  echoes  rolled  thunderously  along  the  coast.  On 
the  open  ground  between  the  harbour  and  Peressip  a  bursting 
shell  flung  death  and  horror  abroad. 

Scarcely  had  the  sound  of  the  first  shot  died  than  the  whole 
of  the  starboard  broadside  of  smaller  guns  commenced  their 
furious  chorus,  the  great  bass  of  the  thirty-centimetre  piece 
marking  the  time.  Petya  stood  isolated  in  the  armoured 
tower,  the  picture  in  the  periscope  spread  like  a  music-sheet 
before  him,  playing  upon  his  fatal  keys  a  devilish  melody  of 
death  that  filled  the  air  with  complex  thunder-chords  and 
sibilant  screams  of  flight. 

The  way  was  cleared.  No  man  dared  move  across  the 
open  road  that  led  to  Peressip. 

The  firing  ceased,  and  Petya  left  his  tower,  pale,  with  eyes 
burning  as  in  fever.  The  men,  already  shaken  by  the  weight 
of  what  had  passed,  could  scarcely  recognize  their  chief.  His 
voice  was  harsh,  his  manner  cuttingly  cold. 

Two  ranks  of  men  with  fixed  bayonets  were  posted  to  line 
the  way  from  the  door  of  the  officers'  mess  to  the  side.  One 

23 


354  KATYA 

of  the  ship's  boats  was  lowered  into  the  water,  and  the  pin- 
nace made  ready  to  tow. 

The  senior  warrant  officer,  now  acting  as  second  in  com- 
mand, opened  the  door  of  the  mess  and  bade  the  prisoners 
leave  the  ship  in  silence.  At  the  first  word  or  any  sign  of 
resistance,  the  order  would  be  given  to  use  bayonets. 

The  prisoned  men  marched  in  silence,  the  Commander  at 
their  head,  between  the  threatening  ranks;  their  eyes  spoke 
bitter  and  contemptuous  hate. 

Petya  Orloff  stood  on  the  bridge,  watching  the  execution  of 
his  orders.  His  late  chief  caught  sight  of  him,  and,  heedless 
of  possible  consequence,  flung  up  a  clenched  and  trembling 
hand :  "  Scoundrel !" 

The  men  nearest  to  him  lowered  their  bayonets.  Orloff 
called  from  the  bridge:  "  Close  up  the  ranks  behind,  and  get 
them  off." 

The  prisoners  were  hurried  forward  by  the  pressure  from 
behind.  Soon  the  pinnace  and  the  boat  were  rilled,  and 
moving  quickly  towards  land. 

Some  moments  later,  while  the  officers  in  the  boats  were 
yet  looking  back  at  the  ship,  the  Admiral  Orloff  began  to 
signal  to  the  cruisers : 

"  /,  Captain  Orloff,  take  command  of  the  warships  in  the 
Roads." 

Hot  and  excited  with  the  events  of  the  last  half-hour,  the 
men  collected  in  groups  about  the  deck. 

"  Long  live  the  Admiral  !" 

The  single  shout  waked  instant  echo  from  the  throats  of 
the  war-maddened  men ;  a  wild  roar  foamed  in  frothing  waves 
of  sound  about  the  lonely  figure  on  the  bridge : 

"  The  Admiral  /" 

Activity  on  board  the  insurgent  warship  increased.  All 
the  town  knew,  and  every  vessel  in  the  roads,  that  the 
Admiral  Orloff  had  joined  the  revolutionaries.  The  fighting 
about  the  entrance  to  Peressip  moved  down  towards  the  coast. 
In  the  suburb  itself  the  deserted  soldiery  were  attacking  the 
troops  that  had  endeavoured  to  outflank  the  army  of  work- 
men by  the  Hospital.  The  signals  from  Novaya  Ekaterinskaya 
explained,  in  halting,  stammering  cipher,  that  the  courage 
and  strength  of  the  insurgents  had  been  greatly  increased  by 


THE  ADMIRAL  355 

the  action  of  the  Admiral  Orloff,  and  begged  that  no  further 
opportunity  of  letting  the  guns  speak  be  neglected. 

The  firing  on  shore  could  be  but  faintly  heard  on  board. 
It  was  clear  that  the  revolutionaries  were  trying  to  draw  their 
opponents  after  them  to  the  eastward,  towards  the  places 
commanded  by  the  guns  of  the  ship.  On  the  Nikolaiefski  all 
was  quiet.  The  attack  on  the  Government  offices  and  the 
Palace  had  evidently  been  abandoned,  and  every  effort  was 
now  being  concentrated  on  the  defence  of  Peressip,  the  fortress 
and  headquarters  of  the  revolt. 

Again  the  signal  "  Ready  !"  was  flashed  from  the  conning- 
tower  to  the  thirty-centimetre  gun  and  the  smaller  ordnance 
on  the  starboard  side. 

Orloff  had  taken  the  edge  of  the  plateau  as  his  mark — 
a  strip  somewhat  farther  to  the  south  than  the  slopes  that 
ran  down  to  Peressip.  At  the  same  time  he  was  careful  to 
sight  well  short  of  the  Hospital.  Even  then  it  was  clear 
that  he  risked  hitting  friends  as  well  as  enemies.  But  as 
long  as  the  actual  fighting  was  hidden  by  the  houses,  there 
was  no  other  way  if  the  guns  of  the  Admiral  Orloff  were  to  take 
any  part  at  all. 

Before  his  fingers  had  pressed  off  the  command  to  fire,  how- 
ever, there  came  a  hissing  of  shell  above  the  ship,  and  the 
roar  of  heavy  guns.  The  Dniepr  and  Pobieda  were  answering 
his  signal  by  firing  on  the  Admiral  Orloff.  None  of  the 
missiles  hit.  Nor  was  this,  perhaps,  intended.  Perhaps  they 
merely  wished  to  warn  the  presumptuous  Admiral  while  there 
was  yet  time.  .  .  .  But  Petya  stamped  his  foot  and  turned 
again  to  his  keyboard.  A  second  later  a  roar  burst  over  the 
troubled  city;  three  times  the  warship's  projectiles  flung 
through  the  air,  punishing  with  fire  and  hurtling  steel  the 
houses  on  the  plateau's  edge. 

The  Dniepr  was  the  first  to  answer,  and  the  Pobieda  was  not 
far  behind.  A  swarm  of  shell  flew  like  invisible  giant  wasps 
above  the  heads  of  the  mutineers.  But  none  of  them  touched 
the  ship.  Neither  of  the  smaller  cruisers  dared  challenge  in 
earnest  the  mighty  armament  at  the  insurgent  Admiral's 
command.  In  vain  they  warned;  he  and  his  men  could  laugh 
at  the  noisy  demonstration,  the  only  effect  of  which  was  to 
raise  some  columns  of  water  from  the  idly  rocking  sapphire 
of  the  summer  sea. 


356  KATYA 

.  '• 

Yet  that  was  not  quite  all.  An  English  cargo  boat  lying 
some  distance  to  port  from  the  Admiral  Orloff  sprang  suddenly 
into  flame;  doubtless  the  work  of  the  Pobieda.  And  away 
on  the  opposite  bow  the  crew  of  a  little  Russian  yacht  were 
shouting  for  aid — their  vessel  was  sinking,  struck  by  a  shot 
from  the  Dniepr's  guns. 

The  ships  lying  in  the  roads  began  hastily  to  hoist  the 
flags  of  their  respective  countries.  Many  signalled  anxiously 
to  know  what  was  going  on,  and  how  they  might  seek  safety. 

The  Admiral  Orloff  gave  them  no  reply.  Petya  and  his 
men  had  no  thought  for  anything  save  observation  of  the 
stretch  of  land  between  the  town  and  Peressip,  where  their 
rain  of  shot  had  fallen.  The  noise  from  the  land  increased; 
the  sound  of  volleys  and  the  tireless  thrill  of  the  machine-guns 
came  ever  more  distinctly  over  the  water.  Here  and  there 
among  the  square-packed  houses  smoke  had  begun  to  rise, 
and  through  his  glass  Petya  could  see  the  pale  flames  shiver 
in  the  sun-filled  air. 

The  warrant  officers  and  men  on  board  were  jubilantly  scorn- 
ful at  the  two  cruisers'  pyrotechnic  display.  "  Let's  sink  the 
rotten  hulks,"  called  one,  waving  his  cap.  And  others  joined 
him,  asking  for  the  range,  to  send  the  hostile  vessels  to  the 
bottom.  But  Petya  preferred  to  save  his  ammunition  against 
more  pressing  need.  There  was  no  knowing  what  the  day  yet 
might  bring.  Already  matters  were  beginning  to  look  ill 
for  the  revolutionary  party,  and  Petya  was  forced  to  admit 
to  himself  that  his  ship  had  done  but  little  as  yet  to  help  the 
cause  for  which  so  much  blood  had  been  shed. 

It  was  almost  impossible  for  him  to  leave  the  bridge. 
There  were  the  signals  from  Novaya  Ekaterinskaya  to  be 
observed,  and  if  the  Governor-General  again  should  venture  to 
send  troops  from  Primorskaya  by  the  coast  road,  they  must 
be  stopped  once  more.  Nor  could  he  let  the  hostile  cruisers 
send  any  boat  on  shore.  Orloff  was  clear  in  his  mind  as  to 
all  he  must  prevent.  But  no  attempt  was  made  to  effect  any 
such  movement;  and  to  take  any  active  part  in  the  fighting 
he  could  hear  was  impossible  as  long  as  he  could  not  see  it. 
His  guns  were  ready,  he  himself  prepared ;  but  the  day  wore 
on  without  giving  him  any  opportunity  to  act. 

The  Dniepr  opened  fire  again.  A  German  grain  ship  that 
was  steaming  out  from  the  Local  Traffic  Harbour  was  hit, 


THE  ADMIRAL  357 

and  began  to  sink;  through  his  glass  Petya  could  see  the  crew 
springing  into  the  water.  A  number  of  small  boats,  with  the 
white  flag  hoisted,  came  up  to  the  rescue.  The  Dniepr  con- 
tinued firing.  All  the  shells  flew  high,  however,  and  were 
greeted  with  jeering  applause  by  the  men  of  the  Admiral 
Orloff,  who  repeated  their  request  to  be  allowed  to  sink  the 
two  cruisers.  "  Let  us  send  them  to  the  bottom,  Excel- 
lency I"  they  called  up  to  Petya  on  the  bridge.  He  answered 
with  a  stern  command  for  silence. 

The  Pobieda  joined  in.  Her  shot  went  lower  and  fell 
shorter  than  those  of  her  consort  on  the  other  side.  On  the 
Admiral  Orloff s  port  side,  off  the  coal  quay,  some  small 
boats  were  upset,  and  a  Russian  brig  caught  fire.  On  every 
side  the  flames  were  growing  in  the  fading  light.  The  smoke 
rolled  in  masses  over  the  surface  of  the  sea,  and  clung  to  the 
reddening  ripples  of  the  water.  To  the  noise  of  fighting  on 
the  slopes  of  the  plateau  were  added  the  shouts  from  desperate 
crews  of  sinking  ships,  the  explosion  of  submerged  boilers,  the 
hoarse  appealing  shriek  of  sirens,  and,  under  all,  the  ceaseless 
treble  and  intermittent  bass  of  the  furious  guns. 

A  shot  from  the  Pobieda  struck  the  Admiral  Orloff  on  the 
starboard  side,  just  above  the  water-line.  But  the  great 
ship  did  not  seem  to  feel.  The  men  laughed  aloud,  hopping 
derisively  about  the  decks,  waving  their  caps,  shouting  out 
fragments  of  ribald  songs,  and  hammering  with  rifle-butts 
against  the  resounding  armour,  as  though  applauding  at  a 
theatre.  "  Try  again  !"  they  roared,  choking  with  mirth. 
"  Go  home  and  borrow  spectacles  from  grandmama  f" 
"  Hurra  for  the  little  Pobieda  and  her  baby  gun  t" 

On  every  side  were  boats,  all  with  white  flags  appealingly 
displayed,  seeking  among  fragments  of  wreckage,  patches  of 
oil,  and  spoutings  of  ubiquitous  shell,  to  save  the  shrieking 
crews  of  sunken  ships.  And  from  the  insurgent  cruiser 
sounded  delirious  laughter  of  men  drunk  with  war. 

The  sun  had  set ;  the  western  heaven  glowed  still  red  above 
the  turbulent  town.  On  board  the  Admiral  Orloff  men  stood 
beside  their  guns,  now  trained  upon  new  targets,  and  waited 
signals  from  the  unseen  control.  Only  the  mighty  thirty- 
centimetre  piece  still  guarded  Peressip;  the  rest  turned 
threatening  mouths  towards  the  cruisers  on  either  side-. 

Through  the  electric  nerves  of  the  great  ship  thrilled  now 


358  KATYA 

once  more  the  dictates  of  the  mind  behind  its  keyboard  brain. 
The  men  at  their  stations  read  again  the  intoxicating  com- 
mand :"  Fire." 

And  merciless  realities  of  horror  shrieked  through  the  air, 
outstripping  the  thunder  that  had  loosed  them  on  their  way. 

Again,  and  yet  again.  Roar  upon  crashing  roar,  and  swift, 
sharp  flashes,  and  grey-white  clouds  of  smoke  flung  from  the 
cruiser's  side. 

The  smoke  cleared;  the  echoes  died  away.  The  Admiral 
and  his  men  saw  the  Pobieda  sinking  by  the  bow,  and  the 
Dniepr,  her  upper  works  one  ghastly  wreck,  obviously 
impotent  as  a  winged  bird. 

Two  or  three  merchant  ships  that  had  not  withdrawn  in 
time  hoisted  signals  of  distress,  and  blew  their  sirens  for 
assistance.  But  none  came.  Neither  friend  nor  enemy  dared 
longer  venture  out  upon  the  water  where  the  Admiral  Orloff 
had  throned  its  threatening  might. 

Quiet  had  fallen  on  the  ship;  the  men's  minds  shifted  from 
mood  to  mood.  Some  threw  themselves  down  where  they 
had  stood,  and  straightway  slept;  many  made  sign  of  the 
cross,  and  prayed  for  their  suffering  comrades  on  the  stricken 
vessels.  One  or  two  sought  information  from  superiors  as  to 
where  it  all  was  to  end,  and  what  might  be  their  leader's 
plans  for  the  night.  Not  a  few  went  in  search  of  drink. 

The  twilight  was  near  when  a  signal  from  Novaya  Ekaterin- 
skaya  informed  Orloff  that  Pravdin  was  coming  out  in  a  boat 
from  Peressip,  and  would  thus  have  to  pass  the  Pobieda. 
The  boat  would  carry  a  white  flag. 

The  searchlights  were  examined ;  everything  was  found  to  be 
In  perfect  order.  The  insurgent  vessel  lit  its  customary  lights, 
in  common  with  every  other  ship  at  anchor  or  in  harbour. 
The  flag  which  had  waved  astern  all  day  was  hauled  down — 
without  the  usual  ceremony.  Watch  was  kept  for  Pravdin's 
boat,  and  two  of  the  smaller  guns  on  the  starboard  side 
were  held  in  readiness  to  protect  him  in  case  the  Pobieda,  in 
spite  of  her  condition,  should  try  to  interfere  with  his  progress. 

But  nothing  happened.  The  glow  from  the  flames  still 
raging  on  sea  and  land  rendered  the  searchlights  unnecessary. 
As  darkness  fell,  and  the  firing  from  the  warships  ceased,  a 
number  of  small  boats  ventured  out  from  the  different 
harbours.  All,  without  exception,  bore  some  or  other  rag 


THE  ADMIRAL  359 

aloft  doing  duty  as  a  white  flag,  and  Pravdin's  craft  was  not 
likely  to  excite  remark. 

As  the  revolutionary  leader  came  on  board,  the  crew 
poured  up  on  to  the  after-deck.  The  guns  were  deserted, 
watch  and  lookout  left  their  posts,  and  men  came  hurrying 
from  the  engine-room  below. 

"  What  is  happening  ashore  there  ?"  "  Have  you  made 
an  end  of  them  ?"  "  We  did  you  a  good  turn  with  the  guns  !" 
"  Hurra  for  the  Republic  !  "  "  Hurra  for  Pravdin  and 
Orloff  1" 

"  Silence  !"  commanded  Petya.  But  the  rain  of  questions 
continued,  and  Pravdin  could  not  make  himself  heard.  He 
looked  long  at  Orloff,  who  lowered  his  eyes.  The  crush  and 
confusion  were  so  great  that  the  two  men  were  separated. 
Somewhere  in  the  press  two  drunken  sailors  were  chanting  a 
doleful  love-song. 

"  Silence  !"  shouted  Petya  again.  "  Be  silent,  men,  and 
let  us  hear  what  Leonid  Petrovitch  has  to  say." 

The  noise  subsided ;  only  the  singers  refused  to  cease  their 
song,  and  chanted  still  in  a  lugubrious  maudlin  drawl  a  crudely 
sentimental  ballad  of  unrequited  love. 

To  this  accompaniment  the  leader  spoke,  curtly,  with  an 
undertone  of  challenge,  rising  now  and  then  to  an  excited  note. 

"  There  have  been  traitors  among  us — scoundrels  who  have 
sold  us  for  Olenin's  and  Dolgoruki's  gold.  Our  people  have 
fought  like  heroes.  The  enemy  have  lost  several  hundred 
men.  But  our  losses,  too,  are  great.  By  an  error  for  which 
one  man  alone  is  responsible  ..." 

His  eyes  sought  Orloff's,  and  for  some  moments  held  his 
glance. 

"...  one  man  alone  ...  we  have  been  prevented  from 
carrying  out  our  original  plan  of  seizing  the  Government 
offices  and  the  Palace.  Our  force  was  attacked  and  cut  up  in 
the  cemetery,  before  we  could  move  out  to  the  Nikolaiefski. 
You  see  the  boulevard  and  the  buildings  there,  high  above 
the  harbour  and  the  sea.  Had  not  our  plan  been  ruined  at  the 
outset,  the  Admiral  Orloff  alone  would  have  been  able  to  lay 
the  centre  of  the  town  at  our  mercy.  By  now  we  should 
have  proclaimed  the  Republic  of  South  Russia.  ..." 

Orloff  took  a  step  forward,  raising  his  arm.  But  he  let  it 
fall  again,  and  bowed  his  head. 


360  KATYA 

"  Nikolaiefski  is  a  target  plain  to  be  seen  from  here — your 
guns  could  have  held  it  for  us.  But  now  all  has  been  in  vain . 
Beyond  hindering  the  troops  in  attacking  Peressip  from 
below,  and  perhaps  drawing  the  fire  of  the  cruisers  from  us, 
you  have  done  no  good  at  all." 

The  men  were  listening  eagerly.  A  couple  of  men  fell 
upon  the  two  singers  and  bore  them  to  the  ground  with  blows 
and  curses.  Pravdin  waited  till  all  was  quiet  again;  Orloff 
was  leaning  against  the  railing  for  support. 

"  For  a  long  time  we  held  the  approaches  to  Peressip. 
Our  brothers  of  the  infantry  regiments  who  had  joined  them- 
selves to  the  just  cause  of  the  people  held  out  as  long  as  they 
had  a  cartridge  left.  But  it  is  over.  We  are  beaten.  .  .  ." 
The  men  were  beginning  to  murmur.  One  of  the  newly 
appointed  officers  voiced  displeasure:  "  Cowards  and  fools  !" 
And  many  of  the  sailors  echoed  the  cry.  But  Pravdin  sprang 
in  upon  the  first  speaker,  and  caught  him  by  the  collar. 

"  You  dare,"  he  shouted — "  you  dare  to  jeer  at  men  who 
have  bled  for  the  holy  cause  of  freedom,  while  you  have 
been  drinking  yourself  to  sleep  on  board  this  useless  toy  !" 

The  sailors  tore  Pravdin  away,  and  threatening  hands  were 
raised.  Petya  stepped  forward.  None  could  see  the  pallor 
of  his  face  in  the  dark,  but  all  could  hear  the  tremor  in  his 
voice  as  he  cried : 

"  Attention  !     The  first  that  gives  a  sign  of  trouble  dies  !" 
The  group  parted.     There  was  a  murmur  of  protest. 
"  Let  him  talk  with  a  civil  tongue,  then;  we  are  as  good 
as  he  !" 

"  Silence !"  called  Petya  again,  and  this  time  he  was 
obeyed. 

"  If  you  have  more  to  say,  Leonid  Petrovitch,"  said  Orloff, 
loudly  enough  to  be  heard  by  most  of  those  around,  "  kindly 
say  it  in  such  a  manner  as  not  to  cause  offence  to  these  good 
men." 

"  Bravo  !"  from  the  crew;  and  again  their  chief  called  them 
to  silence. 

"  Yes,  I  have  more  to  say,"  resumed  Pravdin  excitedly. 
"  This  day  has  been  a  day  of  disaster  for  us  all.  Heaven 
grant  the  cause  of  the  people  may  have  fared  better  else- 
where !  Here  in  Odessa  we  are  crushed ;  it  will  be  long 
before  we  can  raise  our  heads  again.  .  ." 


THE  ADMIRAL  361 

He  covered  his  face  with  his  hands,  struggling  for  com- 
posure, 

"At  the  moment  when  I  left  Peressip,  the  troops  were 
forcing  their  way  into  the  streets  on  all  sides.  From  the 
boat  we  could  see  them  also,  coming  down  by  the  coast 
under  cover  of  darkness.  While  we  stand  here,  Peressip  is 
being  surrounded  and  occupied  by  the  military — as  it  has 
been  Olenin's  plan  all  along.  .  .  ." 

"  Stand  by  the  searchlights  1"  commanded  Orloff. 

There  was  a  hesitant  movement.  "  Might  we  not  wait  till 
he  has  spoken,  Excellency  ?"  asked  a  voice, 

Petya  stamped  his  foot.  "  Stand  by  the  searchlights, 
or  .  .  ." 

A  couple  of  men  moved  unwillingly  away. 

"  Be  quick,  Leonid  Petrovitch,  if  you  please,"  said  Orloff. 
"  We,  too,  have  something  to  say." 

"  There  is  nothing  more  to  tell.  At  this  moment  Peressip 
is  in  Olenin's  power.  Every  supporter  of  the  cause  of  free- 
dom who  is  found  there  will  be  cut  down  or  arrested.  None 
can  escape,  not  even  by  throwing  themselves  into  the  sea. 
The  boats  of  the  Pobieda  are  ready  to  patrol  the  water  in 
front  of  Novaya  Ekaterinskaya.  On  land,  up  beyond  the 
railway-line,  a  close  cordon  of  cavalry  bars  the  way.  The 
slopes  leading  to  the  plateau  are  planted  with  machine-guns. 
Besides  the  three  or  four  thousand  soldiers  let  loose  in  the 
streets  of  Peressip,  Olenin  has  called  out  the  Fire  Brigade, 
police,  and  engineers,  in  pursuit  of  fugitives  trying  to  escape 
by  the  roofs.  And  if  the  traitors  and  spies  in  their  service 
know  where  to  look  for  our  funds  and  papers,  they  can  lay 
hands  on  them  before  we  can  manage  to  burn  even  the  most 
dangerous  secret  lists.  It  is  no  use  my  trying  to  hide  any- 
thing from  you,  brothers ;  we  are  utterly  lost,  all  of  us — also 
you  yourselves  !  There  is  but  one  hope  ..." 

He  paused  and  looked  again  at  Orloff.  Impatient  cries 
broke  from  the  men.  "  Speak  out  !"  "  What  is  it  ?" 
"  You've  got  us  into  the  mess,  you  devil !  Now  get  us  out !" 

"  I  will  tell  you.  Our  only  hope  of  safety  at  this  moment 
is  by  the  guns  of  the  Admiral  Orloff." 

"  Bravo  I"  "  That's  good  I"  "  And  this  is  our  useless 
toy  I"  "  Try  a  shot  yourself,  red  devil  1"  "  What  does  he- 
know  about  guns  I" 


362  KATYA 

"  Silence !"  commanded  Petya  again,  his  hand  on  the 
revolver  in  his  pocket.  "  Explain  yourself,  Leonid  Petro- 
vitch." 

Pravdin  raised  his  voice.  "  The  only  hope  of  saving  the 
cause  for  freedom  and  the  people  is  by  the  guns  of  the  Admiral 
Orloff.  Shoot  Peressip  into  ruins;  shatter  every  stone,  if 
need  be.  Drive  back  Olenin's  troops ;  clear  the  coast,  and  hold 
a  way  for  our  people  to  escape.  Bring  down  the  walls  upon 
the  men  who  are  searching  for  our  secrets  now.  Brothers 
and  friends,  I  ask  this  of  you  in  the  sacred  name  of  freedom  !" 
A  storm  of  applause  greeted  his  words;  men  and  officers 
fought  to  get  near  and  embrace  him.  Many  danced,  shouting, 
about  the  deck;  others  climbed  on  the  great  gun  and  made 
speeches,  or  shouted  aloud  for  Pravdin,  for  Freedom,  for  the 
Republic. 

"  Silence  yet  a  moment,  brothers  !" 
'  Pravdin 's  voice  was  heard  and  obeyed. 

"  I  know  that  you  would  not  forsake  your  comrades  in 
their  need.  The  Russian  people  will  one  day  bless  your  names 
as  those  of  heroes  in  the  cause  of  freedom.  But  one  man 
above  all  will  be  remembered  by  those  who  come  after  us, 
a  man  whom  mothers  shall  teach  their  little  ones  to  bless, 
and  fathers  name  with  honour  to  their  sons ;  the  man  of  noble 
soul,  who  felt  for  those  that  suffer;  man  of  great  heart  and 
ready  hand.  My  brothers,  there  is  one  name  that  shall  live 
long  in  Russian  story — the  name  of  Orloff,  of  our  Admiral !" 
Far  over  the  roads,  flecked  with  the  flames  from  burning 
vessels,  sounded  the  wild  cheers  from  the  warship's  deck. 
The  men  at  the  searchlights  left  their  posts  to  join  the  general 
acclamation.  All  bounds  of  discipline  were  forgotten  in  the 
intoxication  of  the  moment.  Petya  fought  like  a  madman, 
spluttering  inarticulate  curses  at  the  men  who  pressed  about 
him,  caught  and  held  and  lifted  him  shoulder  high.  None 
heeded  his  protest;  the  mutineers,  filled  with  a  maddening 
joy  of  hero-worship,  bore  their  admiral  in  triumph  round  the 
deck,  drowning  his  gasping  words  with  furious  cheering, 
taking  his  blows  as  honourable  accolade. 

Pravdin  was  hammering  with  a  bunch  of  keys  on  the  steel  of 
a  gun,  calling  imploringly  for  order.  One  or  two  officers 
joined  with  him  their  whistles.  At  last  Petya  was  freed. 
He  dashed  towards  Pravdin  with  uplifted  hand,  but  ere  he 


THE  ADMIRAL  363 

could  reach  him  the  leader  of  the  revolutionaries  had  begun 
to  speak,  his  clear,  schooled  tones  carrying  far. 

"  Brothers !  Your  brave  commander  has  given  me  a 
promise — his  honourable  word  to  our  suffering  people.  And 
you  have  sworn  a  solemn  oath  to  him  here  on  this  deck.  Now 
is  the  time  to  keep  those  vows.  Our  fate  is  in  our  Admiral's 
hands;  obey  him,  and  we  are  saved,  victorious !" 

An  officer  shouted  an  order.  "  To  quarters  !"  "  Stand 
by  the  searchlights  !" 

Petya  had  given  no  command.  But  the  men  hurried  to 
their  posts,  eager  for  action  to  relieve  their  fever  of  emotion. 
In  a  few  moments  the  after-deck  was  clear. 

"  A  word  with  you,  Leonid  Petrovitch,"  said  Petya,  striving 
to  speak  calmly. 

"  There  is  no  need  for  more  words,  Peotr  Konstantinovitch. 
We  have  wasted  too  much  time  in  talk  already.  Each  second 
of  delay  in  the  fulfilment  of  your  oath  is  costing  the  lives  of 
men.  This  morning,  at  the  cemetery,  you  placed  yourself 
under  our  orders.  In  the  name  of  the  people  I  order  you  to 
do  what  is  in  your  power  to  save  us  from  oppression  and 
persecution." 

"  Will  you  follow  me  to  a  place  where  we  can  be  alone, 
Leonid  Petrovitch  ?  I  wish  to  speak  with  you." 

The  two  men  went  up  on  the  bridge  and  entered  the  conning- 
tower.  Orloff  closed  the  armoured  door  behind  him.  Then, 
turning  to  Pravdin,  he  said  curtly : 

"  I  refuse  to  obey  your  order." 

"  You  refuse  to  ...  ?" 

"  I  refuse  to  bombard  Peressip." 

"  And  why  do  you  suddenly  break  your  oath,  Peotr  Kon- 
stantinovitch ?  Why  do  you  now  side  with  the  enemies  of 
the  people,  after  you  have  wept  over  the  people's  misery  and 
promised  them  your  aid  ?" 

Petya  stood  leaning  against  the  door;  his  hand  closed  on 
the  revolver  in  his  pocket. 

"  Because  .  .  .  because  .  .  ."  he  stammered,  "...  be- 
cause a  bombardment  would  mean  loss  of  life  or  limb  to 
hundreds,  maybe  thousands,  of  innocent  men.  One  cannot 
shell  an  open  town,  a  populous  quarter,  without.  .  .  .  You 
do  not  know  the  effect  of  the  guns  you  speak  of,  Leonid 
Petrovitch  .  .  .  you  do  not  know  what  it  is  you  ask.  I 


364  KATYA 

am  *io  murderer  of  women  and  children.  ...  I  will  not 
do  your  devilish  work.  .  .  ." 

"  No,"  said  Pravdin,  speaking  quietly,  almost  carelessly — 
"  no,  of  course  not.  Yet  you  are  a  perjurer,  Captain  Orloff, 
and  your  hands  are  stained  already  with  innocent  blood.  .  .  ." 

Petya's  revolver  was  out  before  the  other  had  got  so  far. 
He  darted  forward  a  pace,  but  Pravdin 's  unshaken  calm  and 
contemptuous  smile  checked  him. 

"  I  am  at  your  mercy,  it  seems,"  said  the  insurgent  leader, 
as  one  idly  noting  an  unimportant  fact.  "  You  have  me, 
so  to  speak,  in  a  trap." 

Petya  put  away  his  revolver.  Pravdin  went  on  unmoved : 
"  Your  speech  in  the  cemetery  to-day  is  responsible,  not  only 
for  our  failure  to  capture  the  towrn,  but  also  for  the  fact  that 
we  are  now  surrounded  in  Peressip,  where  the  police  and 
military  at  this  moment  are  butchering  the  innocent  with  the 
guilty.  And  the  responsibility  is  yours,  Captain  Orloff — 
yours  alone.  You  have  it  in  your  power  to  stop  the  slaughter, 
yet  you  allow  it  to  go  on.  You  swore  to-day  to  fight  for  the 
cause  of  freedom,  and  yet  you  stand  here  without  moving  a 
finger,  and  Olenin  and  his  men  take  possession  of  all  that  is 
invaluable  to  that  cause.  Captain  Orloff,  you  are  a  coward ! 
Or  perhaps  you  hold  shares  in  Peressip,  like  General  Kara- 
tayef  and  the  Kherson  Bank,  and  your  interest  in  the  property 
is  more  to  you  than  oath  and  given  word." 

Petya  laughed  harshly.  "  Your  insults  do  not  move  me, 
"Leonid  Petrovitch.  It  seems  I  have  no  honour  left.  Yet  I 
call  God  to  witness  that  no  man  hates  Peressip  as  I — those 
accursed  houses  that  have  crushed  my  life.  ..." 

He  turned  again  to  the  door,  and  leaned  his  head  upon 
one  arm.  His  body  shook  from  time  to  time  with  a  convulsion 
which  he  could  not  control. 

Pravdin  took  out  his  watch.  "  I  give  you  two  minutes, 
Captain  Orloff.  At  the  end  of  that  time  I  can  tell  the  men 
who  are  waiting  their  orders  from  you  that  you  have 
broken  your  oath.  And  we  must  do  what  we  can  without 
you." 

Petya  faced  him.  "  Are  you  certain  that  Peressip  is  sur- 
rounded— that  none  of  the  ...  of  ...  of  our  people  can 
escape  ?" 

"  Nothing  is  more  certain.     You  can  satisfy  yourself  on 


THE  ADMIRAL  365 

the  point  with  the  searchlights,  as  I  imagine  was  your 
intention  a  moment  ago.  You  have  a  minute  and  a  half." 

Petya  moved  over  to  the  signal  table,  and  began  despatching 
orders.  A  moment  later  the  periscope  showed  the  line  of  coast 
from  Primorskaya  to  the  farthest  houses  in  Novaya  Ekaterin- 
skaya,  bathed  in  a  cold,  steady  glare. 

Pravdin  was  right.  Cossacks,  dragoons,  and  infantry  were 
in  position  all  along  the  coast.  Boats  from  the  Pobieda  and 
many  other  small  craft  were  patrolling  close  in  to  land.  The 
searchlights  caused  evident  confusion  and  uneasiness  among 
the  troops.  Petya  gave  another  order,  and  the  light  vanished. 

"  Good  !"  said  Petya.  "  I  will  clear  that  way,  at  least, 
and  then  your  people  must  manage  as  best  they  can." 

"  There  is  no  question  of  my  people,  Captain  Orloff,  but  of 
ours.  And  will  it  help  us  that  you  clear  a  way  which  leads 
only  to  the  sea,  unless  you  drive  the  troops  from  Peressip, 
and  give  the  friends  of  freedom  means  of  escape  for  them- 
selves and  safety  for  our  treasures — or  destruction  for  all  \ 
You  need  not  fear  for  our  people,  Peotr  Konstantinovitch; 
we  are  not  afraid  to  die." 

"  But  the  innocent !  Those  poor  old  people,  Varya's 
parents;  you  saw  me  with  them  this  morning.  .  .  .  Oh, 
God  !  why  must  I  ..." 

"  The  two  minutes  are  gone,  Captain  Orloff." 

"  A  moment  more  .  .  .  have  you  no  heart,  man  ?  It  was 
these  poor  creatures  and  their  like  we  were  to  protect  and  aid, 
you  and  I.  .  .  ." 

"  You  are  right,  Captain  Orloff.  Let  us  clasp  our  hands 
and  pray  together,  while  the  soldiers  slaughter  these  poor 
creatures,  Varya's  parents,  children,  girls.  .  .  ." 

"  Enough  !     Let  it  be  as  you  will." 

For  the  second  time  that  day  Petya  Orloff  made  the  sign 
of  the  cross. 

Pravdin's  glance  followed  him  everywhere  about  the  closed 
and  silent  room.  The  Admiral  of  mutineers  moved  as  one 
dreaming  through  imagined  action  in  delirium.  His  hands 
shook,  his  eyes  were  fixed  and  hard,  his  forehead  glistening 
with  sweat,  and  yet  he  shivered  as  with  cold  from  time  to 
time. 

Again  the  searchlights'  glare  betrayed  each  movement  on 
the  shore.  Pravdin  watched  Petya  as  he  bent  over  his 


366  KATYA 

instruments  and  paper  of  calculations,  pressing  now  one,  now 
another,  of  the  mysterious  keys;  and  at  each  touch  a  silent 
signal  answered  him.  A  speech  was  spoken  here  which  only 
the  initiated  understood.  Strange  signs  were  ordering  the 
fate  of  thousands,  dealing  out  ruin,  devastation,  death. 

"  AU  is  ready,"  said  Petya  at  last,  in  a  dull  voice.  He 
signalled  "  Ready  !"  to  the  waiting  guns,  and  rose.  "  AU  is 
ready.  May  God  have  mercy  on  my  soul !" 

"  Russia  will  honour  you  among  its  heroes,"  answered  the 
other. 

But  Petya  shook  his  head,  and  his  eyes  filled  with  tears 
that  clouded  sight,  hiding  his  hand  as  it  pressed  off  the  ulti- 
mate irrevocable  command: 

"  Fire !" 

The  sudden  flashes  lit  the  night  and  died;  the  thunder 
rolled  and  spread  in  all  but  tangible  waves  above  the  sea. 
Dread  sight  and  horrid  sound  proclaimed  the  warship  linked 
once  more  to  its  controlling  mind. 

The  effect  of  the  Admiral  Orloff's  intervention  was  horrible. 
The  rain  of  projectiles  swept  the  coast  and  water  in  a  line 
parallel  with  the  house-walls  of  Novaya  Ekaterinskaya. 
Men  and  horses  were  torn  to  pieces,  boats  smashed  and  sunk. 
No  discipline  could  hold  troops  thus  assailed.  The  search- 
lights showed  a  scene  of  wildest  panic :  horse  and  foot  dashing 
terror-stricken  along  any  road  that  led  away  from  the  coast, 
careless  of  what  new  danger  might  await  them  behind  the 
nearest  cover  that  was  their  immediate  goal. 

By  some  freak  unaccountable,  the  Pobieda  had  been  hulled 
anew.  No  guns  had  aimed  at  the  cruiser,  which  lay  too  far 
from  the  coast  to  be  of  interest  at  the  present  juncture.  But 
hit  she  was,  and  sinking  now,  slowly,  as  seeking  rest.  No 
more  was  to  be  feared  from  the  Pobieda.  Nor  did  the  Dniepr 
exhibit  any  sign  of  life ;  her  lights  were  out,  and  she  seemed 
only  anxious  to  remain  unobserved  in  the  darkness. 

"  The  way  is  clear,"  said  Orloff,  turning  to  Pravdin.  "  If 
troops  or  patrol  boats  return  within  the  lighted  space,  I  can 
hunt  them  off  in  a  moment.  Let  us  stop  now ;  we  have  done 
enough." 

"  For  God's  sake,"  broke  in  Pravdin,  and  his  voice  was 
warm  and  eager  now,  "  for  the  sake  of  your  father's  name, 
for  all  that  is  dear  to  you,  do  not  stop  half-way,  Captain 


THE  ADMIRAL  367 

Orloff !  The  welfare  of  thousands  lies  in  your  hand.  If  you 
can  only  drive  the  troops  from  Peressip,  you  will  have  saved 
many  thousands  of  innocent  men  and  women  from  Siberia, 
and  better  served  the  cause  of  freedom  than  any  Russian 
ever  before." 

"  And  sent  hundreds  of  innocent  men  to  their  death  !" 

"  If  there  is  a  woman  you  love,  if  there  is  any  for  whose 
sake  or  memory  you  would  sacrifice  all  that  you  have,  I 
implore  you  in  her  name  to  hear  me.  Save  us,  Peotr  Kon- 
stantinovitch — for  you  alone  can  save  us  now.  Remember 
your  oath !  Remember  the  vengeance  due  for  all  the  blood 
upon  your  head  to-day  !" 

"Enough,  man;  no  more!  .  .  .  Katya,  Katya,  so  you 
have  steered.  .  .  .  Ah,  God  !  .  .  .  Pashka,  little  bird.  ..." 

Orloff  was  sobbing  like  a  child.  The  signals  asked  new 
orders;  the  telephone  called  him.  The  great  ship  was  waiting, 
restless  and  impatient,  for  the  orders  of  the  man  at  whose  will 
it  moved. 

Pravdin  laid  a  hand  on  Orloff  s  shoulder.  Softly,  almost 
tenderly,  he  spoke:  "  Peotr  Konstantinovitch,  take  vengeance 
— vengeance  for  yourself  and  us  !" 

Petya  started.  "  Vengeance  ?"  He  looked  at  Pravdin  as 
one  half  comprehending  some  dread  thing.  "  Vengeance  !" 

"  Yes,"  murmured  the  other.  "  Vengeance  for  all  your 
sufferings." 

Orloff  thrust  him  aside,  feverishly  intent  now  on  the 
thought  he  had  made  his  own.  "  Yes,"  he  whispered,  as 
though  unconscious  of  the  other's  presence;  "  yes  ...  it  is 
true.  ...  I  will  take  vengeance  .  .  .  vengeance.  .  .  ." 

He  bent  once  more  over  his  instruments  and  calculations. 
The  signals  streamed  through  the  electric  nerves,  and  the 
searchlights  poured  once  more  their  merciless  glare  over 
Peressip.  Pravdin  noticed  that  he  was  again  working 
mechanically,  as  in  sleep,  yet  the  tears  dropped  from  his  eyes 
and  from  time  to  time  he  stopped,  unable  to  see. 

"  Ready !" 

Petya  Orloff  folded  his  hands;  his  lips  were  moving, 
though  without  sound,  in  prayer. 

Shaking  with  sobs,  but  still  without  a  word,  he  touched  the 
keys  once  more,  and  ordered : 

"  Fire  !" 


368  KATYA 

And  now  his  fingers  never  left  the  keys.  Ceaselessly  he 
bade  them  load  and  fire,  calling  at  ever-decreasing  intervals 
the  clamorous  guns  to  hurl  their  thunder-sped  destruction. 
Wilder  and  wilder  grew  the  play  of  the  keys,  and  faster  came 
his  tears.  The  Admiral  of  the  mutineers  sobbed  at  his 
deadly  work. 

It  was  a  day  of  judgment,  a  ruthless  hour  of  reckoning  for 
Peressip.  Fire  and  flung  steel  wrought  pitilessly  among  the 
grey-walled  houses  by  the  Black  Sea.  General  Karatayef's 
monument  of  victory  was  wrecked  to  a  formless  ruin;  the 
headstone  raised  above  the  grave  of  Petya's  youth  and  hope 
crashed  into  flaming  demolition. 

Novaya  Ekaterinskaya  was  a  line  of  mounting,  furious  fire, 
extended  here  and  there  and  broken  by  explosions  of  the 
stores  of  bombs  and  dynamite.  The  ruins  fell  and  massed  like 
avalanche  on  avalanche  below.  Ammunition  spluttered  through 
wrecked  roofs  towards  the  sky;  windows  were  splintered  by 
the  heat  or  smashed  by  casual  shot.  Deserted  machine-guns 
stood  shakingly  vomiting  their  last  missiles  before  they,  too, 
succumbed.  Oil  and  petroleum  caught  and  flared,  ignited 
gas  poured  streams  of  fire  abroad,  lighting  all  woodwork 
within  reach.  Poisonous  smoke  was  flung  down  over  the 
scarce  distinguishable  streets,  and  lifted  again  and  lost  in  a 
sea  of  rising  flame,  that  flung  the  darkness  of  the  night  aside, 
shedding  crude  light  upon  the  devastation  of  the  land  and 
desolation  of  the  sea. 

There  was  no  more  fighting  now  in  Peressip ;  none  cared  for 
anything  save  flight.  There  was  no  thought  of  enemy  or 
friend;  men  flung  themselves  by  hundreds  into  the  sea; 
thousands  fled  southward  to  the  plateau,  or  westward,  where 
the  dread  shells  had  no  mission.  The  soldiers  cleared  a  way 
for  the  insurgents  as  well  as  for  the  peaceful  folk  who  had 
never  lifted  hand  against  authority.  The  cordon  which 
Olenin  had  drawn  around  the  suburb  broke  helplessly,  nor 
was  it  possible,  had  any  wished,  to  stem  the  human  flood 
that  poured  from  the  tortured  wreck  which  had  been  Peressip. 
The  crew  of  the  Pobieda  fled  from  their  ship  and  saw  it  sink. 
All  the  available  boats  in  the  harbour  rowed  to  the  shore  in 
front  of  Peressip,  endeavouring  to  save  the  fugitives  who 
were  crying  for  aid.  Carts  and  ambulances  moved  round  to 
the  westward  to  take  up  the  sick  and  wounded  who  were 


THE  ADMIRAL  369 

seeking  safety  by  land.  The  municipal  gas-works  cut  off  the 
supply  to  avoid  further  feeding  the  flames.  In  the  western 
part  of  the  suburb  firemen  were  doing  what  they  could  to 
extinguish  the  conflagration.  Novaya  Ekaterinskaya  and  its 
immediate  surroundings  had  long  since  been  abandoned.  For 
miles  across  the  sea  men  saw  the  towering  flames  from  the 
slum  that  was  named  after  Katya  Rilinski. 

As  long  as  a  shell  remained  to  feed  the  guns,  the  Admiral 
Orloff  fired  unceasingly.  The  men  toiled  and  sweated  over 
the  heavy  ammunition,  exciting  themselves  with  drink. 
They  danced  half-naked  about  the  guns,  howling  with  horrible 
laughter,  and  roaring  with  wild  delight  at  the  sight  of  the 
destruction  they  wrought. 

Before  the  last  shots  had  been  fired,  Pravdin  left  the  ship 
in  the  same  boat  which  had  brought  him  on  board. 

Up  in  his  armoured  tower  the  Admiral  wept  at  his  work. 

Captain  Orloff  called  up  two  of  the  senior  officers,  and  in- 
formed them  that  he  took  upon  himself  the  full  responsibility 
for  what  had  been  done  that  day. 

"  The  disgrace  which  I  have  brought  upon  my  name,"  he 
said,  "  can  never  be  wiped  out;  as  little  as  the  innocent  blood 
upon  my  hands.  The  easiest  thing  would  be  to  shoot  myself. 
It  may  be  God  will  understand  that  I  had  no  evil  thought.  .  .  . 
But  let  me  at  least,  before  I  die,  do  what  I  can  to  save  you 
whom  I  have  led  into  it  all.  I  am  going  ashore  now  to  give 
myself  up  to  Prince  Olenin.  He  and  my  judges  shall  know 
that  you  have  only  obeyed  my  orders.  .  .  .  After  all,  they 
can  only  kill  me — and  the  sooner  they  do  so  the  better.  ..." 

The  men  begged  and  prayed  of  him  to  stay  on  board  and 
share  what  fate  might  fall  to  their  lot  and  that  of  the  crew. 
But  Petya  answered  them  gently  that  for  once  he  would  have 
his  own  way. 

"  The  Admiral  Orloff  is  no  longer  of  any  value  to  the  cause 
which  we  have  called  '  the  cause  of  freedom  "...  I  hardly 
know  why.  .  .  .  We  have  not  a  single  shot  on  board.  .  .  . 
We  cannot  even  work  our  own  destruction  .  .  .  and  in  any 
case,  I  would  not  be  a  party  to  the  wrecking  of  a  ship  which  is 
the  Tsar's,  and  which  bears  my  father's  name.  ..." 

"  Nor  we,  Your  Excellency." 

"  But  there  is  no  need  for  you  to  give  yourselves  up.  It 

24 


370  KATYA 

is  enough  that  I  do  so.    Prince  Olenin  will  be  glad  enough  to 
have  '  the  Admiral '  in  his  power.  ..." 

"  Remember  Pravdin's  words,  Your  Excellency.  Russia 
will  honour  your  name.  .  .  ." 

"No;  hate  it,  curse  it,  and  despise  .  .  ."  He  strove  to 
control  himself.  "  But  you  can  get  away  if  you  will.  There 
is  sufficient  store  of  coal,  provisions,  and  water  on  board. 
Get  out  to  sea  and  make  your  escape.  The  Pobieda  has  gone 
to  the  bottom ;  the  Dniepr  is  hardly  in  a  condition  to  do  harm 
even  if  she  would.  Make  for  a  foreign  port — Roumanian,  Bul- 
garian, Turkish— and  leave  the  Admiral  Orloff  there.  The 
Tsar  will  fetch  it  back  all  right.  And  you  will  be  out  of 
reach.  .  .  .  The  rest  you  can  leave  to  me." 

The  officers  tried  once  more  to  persuade  him  to  go  with  them, 
but  less  resolutely  now,  occupied  as  they  already  were  with 
the  need  of  making  good  their  own  escape.  With  its  own 
undisciplined  crew  and  empty  magazines,  the  Admiral 
Orloff  would  be  an  easy  prey  for  a  handful  of  determined  men. 
Petya  pointed  out  also  that  as  soon  as  the  telegraph  service 
was  restored — which  might  already  have  been  done — word 
would  be  sent  for  warships  from  Sevastopol,  and  then  it 
would  only  be  a  matter  of  hours.  Pravdin  had  left  the  ship 
without  a  word ;  he  had  no  further  use  for  it,  and  he  and  his 
sought  only  to  escape  under  cover  of  the  general  confusion 
ashore.  It  was  but  natural  that  the  Admiral  Orloff' s  crew 
should  also  think  of  flight. 

Before  commencing  preparations,  the  officers  took  leave 
of  Petya.  They  kissed  his  hands  and  cheeks,  and  honoured 
him  as  a  saint.  In  vain  he  strove  to  hinder  their  protesta- 
tions of  respect  and  affection. 

"  I  thank  you,  my  children,"  he  said.  "  Do  not  forget 
that  I  have  never  wished  any  harm  to  you  or  those  ashore.  .  .  . 
And  tell  the  men  so  to-morrow,  when  you  are  safely  out  at 
sea.  .  .  .  Tell  them  my  last  words  to  them  all  asked  their 
forgiveness." 

Nothing  was  said  to  the  crew  as  to  the  Admiral's  decision. 
Reliable  men  were  sought  out,  and  the  work  distributed  as 
far  as  possible.  The  engineer  officer,  the  only  one  who  had 
joined  the  mutineers,  was  informed  of  the  task  awaiting  him. 
In  silence  a  boat  was  lowered  into  the  water.  Meanwhile 
all  orders  were  still  issued  in  Captain  Orloff's  name. 


THE  ADMIRAL  371 

Petya  went  below  to  change  his  coat ;  the  full-dress  uniform 
irked  his  mind.  The  door  of  the  officers'  mess  stood  open, 
and  he  glanced  in.  He  stood  a  moment  looking  round  the 
room.  The  disorder  within  was  not  so  great  as  he  had 
expected.  Suddenly  the  blood  rushed  to  his  head,  and  he 
gave  a  cry.  The  great  picture  of  Admiral  Orloff,  which  hung 
upon  the  wall  had  been  torn  from  its  frame,  and  on  the  back 
of  the  canvas  was  written : 

"  A  father's  curse  upon  his  scoundrel  son  !" 

Petya  hurried  away  to  his  cabin,  which  he  had  not  seen 
for  nearly  three  weeks,  and  locked  the  door  after  him. 

Some  letters  lay  on  the  table.  There  was  one  from  his 
sister  Olga,  in  Turkestan,  that  he  put  in  his  pocket.  There 
was  a  thick  envelope,  addressed  in  Latin  characters;  the 
writing  he  did  not  know.  And  one  from  Katya. 

He  opened  the  last,  and  read : 

"  Petya,  my  darling,  come  back  to  me.  All  is  changed 
since  you  went  away.  You  were  angry,  and  you  did  not 
understand.  Petya,  I  need  you;  come  to  me,  as  you  pro- 
mised. And  we  will  row  and  steer  together.  Send  me  a 
word  to  say  you  have  heard  me  and  will  come. 

"  Yours  and  yours  enly, 

"  KATYA." 

Orloff  laid  the  letter  down;  his  thoughts  were  chaos.  H« 
looked  round  the  cabin  as  though  seeking  something  which 
could  help  him  to  understand.  But  there  was  nothing.  All 
the  familiar  objects  about  him  thrust  themselves  upon  his 
mind,  seeming  to  ask  of  him  importunately  to  fix  them  in  his 
consciousness.  He  found  himself  thinking  of  irrelevant  things 
.  .  .  the  portraits  there  of  Prince  and  Princess  Rilinski  were 
not  good  likenesses.  .  .  .  The  silk  ribbon  with  the  queer 
lettering  had  been  given  him  by  a  Japanese  officer;  he  had 
perhaps  since  fought  against  the  Russian  fleet  at  Tsushima.  .  .  . 
That  photo  of  Katya  as  a  girl  was  growing  sadly  faded  .  .  . 
and  the  double  portrait  of  his  parents  needed  a  new  frame. ..." 

"  All  is  changed  !"  .  .  .  What  did  she  mean  by  that  ?  Date 
and  postmark  showed  that  the  hastily  written  lines  had  been 
sent  off  on  the  day  following  Petya's  flight.  What  could  have 
happened  ?  .  .  .  But  Katya  was  right :  now  all  was  changed 


37*  KATYA 

indeed.  And  now  that  she  called,  knowing  she  needed  him, 
now  it  was  late — too  late.  .  .  .  Poor  Katya  !  .  .  . 

He  took  up  the  letter  with  the  Latin  characters  and  opened 
it.  It  was  from  Farringham. 

He  read  at  first  idly,  then  astonished,  at  last  avidly  devour- 
ing. Man  spoke  to  man.  Although  written  in  French,  a 
tongue  foreign  both  to  him  who  wrote  and  him  who  read,  its 
words  yet  reached  from  heart  to  heart.  Petya  knew  now 
why  Katya  needed  him.  So  she  had  steered  .  .  .  and  now 
it  was  all  too  late. 

There  was  no  strength  in  Petya's  mind  for  more  excite- 
ment. An  intense  weariness  weighed  him  down,  body  and 
soul;  he  longed  for  the  respite  of  peace  that  prison  would 
bring.  And  these  letters  that  reached  him  now,  when  all 
was  over,  shed  but  a  gentle,  almost  kindly  melancholy.  He 
smiled  sadly,  feeling  sorry  for  himself  as  for  another  soul. 
Fate  had  been  very  merciless,  though  he  had  wished  no  evil 
to  any.  But  sufferings  were  over  now — his  judges  could  not 
refuse  him  death. 

Both  Katya's  letter  and  Farringham's  he  tore  in  small 
pieces,  which  he  put  in  his  pocket.  The  portrait  of  Katya 
he  kissed  once  and  destroyed.  He  made  a  genuflection  before 
the  eikon  which  had  been  his  father's,  and,  leaving  the  cabin, 
went  quietly  on  deck  to  take  his  place  in  the  boat. 

The  mutineer  officers  covered  their  Admiral's  departure  as 
far  as  possible,  keeping  the  men  away  from  the  side. 

When  he  had  left  the  ship  some  way  behind,  Petya  took 
out  the  fragments  of  the  letters  from  his  pockets,  and  strewed 
them  over  the  water. 

Away  to  the  north  the  flames  from  Novaya  Ekaterinskaya 
lit  up  the  shore.  Behind  him  the  lights  of  the  Admiral 
Orloff  went  out ;  "fhe  mutineers  were  getting  up  anchor,  ready 
to  slip  away  in  the  dark. 

Petya  brought  his  boat  alongside  in  front  of  the  high, 
broad  stairway  that  leads  from  the  coal  quay  to  the  Niko- 
laiefski.  Everything  was  silent,  dark,  and  deserted.  Not 
until  he  reached  the  boulevard  did  he  meet  police,  who 
saluted  stiffly  at  sight  of  his  uniform.  It  was  impossible  to 
see  who  was  the  man  that  bore  it.  Cavalry  patrols  passed 
him  unheeding. 

Outside  the  offices  of  the  Governor-General  a  number  o{ 


THE  ADMIRAL  373 

horsemen  were  assembled.  The  entrance  and  stairs  were  in 
darkness;  there  was  neither  gas  nor  electricity  in  all  Odessa 
that  night. 

In  one  of  the  outer  offices,  lit  with  candles  and  small 
lamps,  messengers  and  orderlies  were  waiting.  Petya  asked 
for  Prince  Olenin. 

"  His  Highness  is  not  here,"  answered  one  of  the  messengers. 
"  But  if  Your  Honour  is  the  officer  expected  from  the  Dniepr, 
I  am  to  inform  Count  Dolgoruki  .  .  ." 

"  Good.     Show  me  in  to  Count  Dolgoruki.  .  .  ." 

"  Your  Honour's  name,  if  I  may  .  .  ." 

"  Captain  Orloff." 

The  men  started  and  stepped  back,  staring  in  silent 
astonishment  at  the  Admiral  of  mutineers.  The  man  with 
whom  he  had  spoken  moved  hesitatingly  to  the  inner  office. 
No  one  spoke;  in  the  breathless  silence  one  could  hear  the 
whispered  singing  of  the  lamps. 

Count  Dolgoruki  appeared  in  the  doorway. 

"  Good-evening,  Gavril  Ivanovitch,"  said  Petya,  in  a  quiet, 
natural  voice,  offering  his  hand.  The  Count  placed  his  hands 
behind  his  back. 

Petya  lowered  his  eyes.  "  I  have  come  to  give  myself  up," 
he  said. 

"  Follow  me."    Count  Dolgoruki's  tone  was  hard  and  cold. 

The  two  men  passed  into  the  inner  office. 

"  If  you  have  any  weapon  on  your  person,"  said  the  Count, 
"  kindly  give  it  up."  He  rang  a  bell. 

Petya  took  Pravdin's  revolver  from  his  pocket  and  laid  it 
on  the  table. 

"  Is  that  all  ?" 

"  Yes." 

The  orderly  appeared,  and  was  sent  to  fetch  the  Chief  of 
Staff,  Colonel  Karasin,  and  a  guard. 

"  No  guard  is  needed,  Gavril  Ivanovitch,"  said  Petya.  "  I 
am  alone,  and  unarmed;  I  will  go  where  you  wish  to  send 
me." 

The  other  did  not  answer.  He  was  pale,  and  his  hands 
trembled. 

A  moment  later  the  Chief  of  Staff  appeared,  followed  by 
ten  men  with  fixed  bayonets. 

"  Scoundrel !     Perjurer !     Traitor !"     The    Colonel    stood 


37.4  KATYA 

trembling  with  fury,  and  shook  his  clenched  hand  before 
Petya's  face. 

But  Petya  only  shook  his  head;  the  shadow  of  a  weary 
smile  passed  over  his  face. 

The  Count  and  the  Chief  of  Staff  whispered  together.  As 
soon  as  they  had  agreed  as  to  their  dispositions,  the  Colonel 
made  a  sign  to  the  soldiers,  who  surrounded  the  prisoner  and 
tied  his  hands.  As  they  drew  the  cords,  Petya  lifted  his 
eyes  towards  the  Count. 

"  Bring  Sonya  greeting  from  me,  Gavril  Ivanovitch.  And 
Katya.  Tell  Katya  that  her  letter  came  too  late.  If  I  had 
known,  she  should  not  have  called  in  vain." 

The  doors  were  opened,  and  between  a  double  line  of 
bayonets  the  Admiral  passed  to  his  prison. 


CHAPTER  X 

THE  FINISHED    PATTERN 

ADVOCATE  MANDELBERG  was  spending  busy  days  with  in- 
surance policies  and  works  of  reference,  seeking  advice  among 
the  cleverest  of  his  colleagues,  consulting  the  legal  faculty  of 
Odessa.  No  trouble  or  expense  was  spared  in  the  days 
following  the  Admiral  Orloff's  bombardment  of  Peressip.  All 
was  in  vain,  however;  there  was  no  possibility  of  evading  the 
clear  wording  of  the  policies.  "  No  compensation,"  ran  the 
clause,  "  can  be  claimed  on  account  of  damage  caused  by 
war,  revolt,  civil  disturbance,  or  breach  of  the  national  peace." 
Inquiries  at  the  Government  offices  brought  as  little  result. 
Count  Gavril  Dolgoruki  was,  on  account  of  his  wife's  large 
holdings,  naturally  disposed  to  support  Mandelberg  in  his 
endeavours  to  obtain  payment  of  compensation  to  the  owners 
of  property  in  Peressip.  But  even  he  could  give  no  hope 
that  the  State  would  render  any  assistance.  The  tenants  of 
the  houses  owned  by  the  families  of  Rilinski  and  Karatayef 
in  the  quarter  near  the  harbour  had  been  sworn  enemies  of 
the  State  and  society — miscreants,  murderers,  and  revolu- 
tionaries, Officers  from  the  Pobieda  could  testify  that  Cap- 
tain Orloff  had  been  in  communication  with  a  signal  station 
in  Novaya  Ekaterinskaya  itself,  and  that  the  signals  sent 


THE  FINISHED  PATTERN  375 

late  in  the  evening  had  actually  demanded  the  bombard- 
ment of  Peressip.  In  the  case  of  the  houses  on  the  edge  of 
the  plateau,  it  was  possible  that  after  the  lapse  of  years,  when 
all  had  been  threshed  out  and  examined,  the  State  might  make 
some  compensation — as  an  act  of  Imperial  generosity,  and 
not  in  fulfilment  of  any  legal  claim.  But  the  owners  of 
Peressip — never ! 

The  shares  of  the  Kherson  Bank  fell  in  those  days  below 
par.  The  losses  incurred  by  the  Bank  and  by  the  families 
of  Rilinski  and  Karatayef  amounted  to  millions  of  roubles. 
The  newer  portions  of  the  quarter,  lying  west  and  north  of  the 
part  built  in  the  eighties  by  Prince  Sergei  Rilinski  and  General 
Karatayef,  were  almost  unharmed.  But  the  great  mass  of 
buildings  immediately  below  the  plateau  and  nearest  the 
Local  Traffic  Harbour — all  that  in  the  old  days  had  been 
marked  in  red  and  green  on  General  Karatayef's  plans — lay 
now  in  smoking  ruins.  Of  all  that  Peressip  which  owed  its 
origin  to  the  union  between  the  Rilinskis  and  the  Karatayefs, 
one  single  edifice  alone  survived  that  day  of  destruction. 
Above  the  ruined  slum  still  rose  the  three  blue  cupolas  of  the 
Church  of  St.  Sofia,  unharmed  by  fire  and  steel. 

For  a  week  or  more  after  the  terrible  day,  communication 
between  Odessa  and  the  outer  world  remained  irregular  and 
uncertain.  In  the  town  itself,  however,  all  was  quiet.  The 
few  slight  disturbances  which  took  place  were  due  to  the 
presence  of  "  the  Admiral."  When  he  passed,  in  a  closed 
carriage,  and  with  an  escort  of  Cossacks,  from  his  prison  to 
the  Government  offices,  where  the  military  tribunal  was  held, 
hundreds  of  people  lined  the  streets  to  catch  a  glimpse  of  him. 
During  the  whole  of  the  time  the  trial  lasted  there  was  never 
a  single  hostile  demonstration  against  him.  Several  scenes 
of  excitement,  however,  took  place:  mothers  held  their 
children  forth  that  he  might  bless  them  with  his  bound  hands ; 
hysterical  women  tried  to  fling  themselves  under  the  wheels 
of  his  carriage  or  the  hoofs  of  the  escort's  horses;  young  men 
knelt  with  bared  heads  beside  the  way  he  passed.  Naive 
little  songs,  originating  none  knew  whence,  were  distributed 
among  the  poorer  classes,  greeting  him  with  melancholy 
acclaim.  A  photographer,  who  still  possessed  the  plate  of  a 
portrait,  taken  ten  years  before,  of  Lieutenant  P.  K.  Orloff, 


376  KATYA 

sold  copies  by  the  hundred;  and  crudely  coloured  pictures  of 
more  originality  than  truth  were  exhibited  everywhere. 
Andrei,  the  old  dvornik  at  Khersonskaya  51,  and  his  wife 
Arina,  found  themselves  famous.  Their  statements  in  the 
court  and  to  friends  and  relations  soon  made  Orloff's  relation 
to  Pashka  known  to  all  the  town. 

Petya  received  a  score  of  applications  from  advocates  in 
Odessa,  Kief,  Moscow,  and  St.  Petersburg,  anxious  to  under- 
take his  defence.  He  himself,  however,  desired  no  aid. 
When  it  was  pointed  out  to  him  that,  unless  he  made  a  choice, 
the  court  would  appoint  a  counsel  for  the  accused,  he  took 
the  first  letter  that  came  to  hand.  The  lot  fell  to  a  young 
and  famous  advocate  from  Moscow,  who  based  his  defence 
upon  the  theory  that  his  client  had  been  so  shaken  by 
Pashka's  death  that  all  his  subsequent  actions  were  to  be 
regarded  as  the  utterances  of  an  unsound  mind.  Andrei  and 
his  wife,  the  policeman  who  had  helped  Orloff  home,  the 
officer  of  Cossacks  who  had  spoken  to  him  in  the  Novaya 
Ekaterinskaya,  and  a  number  of  those  who  had  heard  his 
speech  in  the  cemetery,  were  called  as  witnesses  for  the 
defence,  and  Petya's  counsel  demanded  a  psychiatric  examina- 
tion of  his  client.  Orloff,  however,  protested  strongly  against 
this  idea,  and  the  resulting  disagreement  between  the  advo- 
cate and  his  client  was  such  that  Petya  at  last  refused  to 
receive  his  counsel.  "  The  Admiral  "  answered  frankly  all 
questions  put  to  him  concerning  the  events  that  had  occurred. 
He  repeated  as  far  as  possible  word  for  word  the  oath  that  had 
been  sworn  on  board,  and  did  everything  in  his  power  to 
assist  the  progress  of  the  trial.  Neither  his  judges  nor  the 
counsel  for  the  prosecution  had  any  doubt  as  to  the  truth 
of  his  statements.  His  stay  at  Priluka — due,  it  appeared,  to 
Princess  Rilinski's  illness  and  death — was  of  no  importance 
in  cross-examination.  Pravdin's  name  he  never  mentioned, 
though  it  was  repeatedly  cited  by  his  counsel,  who  knew  it 
to  be  false. 

The  disagreement  between  Petya  and  his  counsel  was  not 
only  due  to  the  latter's  attempt  to  prove  his  client  insane. 
A  like  difference  made  itself  evident  in  their  statements  as  to 
the  actions  for  which  "  the  Admiral "  was  called  to  account. 
The  advocate  tried  to  prove  that  Petya  had  acted  under 
coercion  on  the  part  of  the  mutineers — now  in  Roumania, 


THE  FINISHED  PATTERN  377 

where  the  Government  refused  to  give  them  up,  regarding 
them  as  political  misdemeanants.  The  counsel  for  the 
defence  declared  that  the  whole  responsibility  lay  with  these 
men,  whom  it  was  impossible  to  produce.  OrlofI,  however, 
solemnly  declared  that  he  and  he  alone  was  responsible  for  all 
that  had  happened  after  his  arrival  on  board.  His  orders,  and 
his  only,  had  been  obeyed. 

On  these  points  the  prosecution  was  so  strongly  supported 
by  the  accused  that  the  latter's  counsel  could  make  no  head- 
way. On  the  other  hand,  there  was  one  side  of  the  case  where 
the  position  was  reversed.  To  all  questions  regarding  his 
motives  for  partaking  in  the  bloodshed  of  the  revolt,  the 
accused  returned  such  vague  and  unsatisfactory  replies  that 
it  was  impossible  to  make  anything  of  his  statements.  The 
advocate  from  Moscow  was  pitiless  here,  and  took  every  oppor- 
tunity of  emphasizing  this  point.  The  many  witnesses  who 
had  testified  to  Orloff  having  spoken  at  the  cemetery  of 
"  the  Tsar's  holy  name,"  the  "  faithful  subjects  of  the  Tsar," 
were  sufficiently  in  agreement  with  Petya's  own  version  of  the 
oath  sworn  on  board  the  Admiral  Orloff  :  "  We  will  fight  for 
our  loved  father  the  Tsar,"  or  "  We  will  fight  for  the  Tsar, 
our  country,  its  people,  and  their  freedom."  Was  this  the 
oath  of  a  mutineer  ?  How  could  such  words  be  brought  to 
harmonize  with  Orloff' s  activity  in  connection  with  a  revolt, 
the  object  of  which,  as  evidenced  by  confessions  already 
made  before  other  courts,  was  to  proclaim  a  republic  ? 

The  counsel  for  the  defence  bombarded  his  client  with 
questions  as  to  his  political  opinions,  and  his  interpretation 
of  the  word  "  freedom."  Petya's  answers  were  vague,  often 
contradictory.  During  cross-examination  he  was  suddenly 
asked  whether  he  were  a  republican.  He  answered  with  some 
passion  that  he  had  told  the  revolutionary  leader  in  the 
cemetery,  immediately  after  his  speech  by  the  grave,  that  he 
considered  the  idea  of  a  republic  as  madness,  and  would  have 
nothing  to  do  with  anything  of  the  sort.  "  And  yet/' 
insisted  his  counsel,  ''  you  maintain  that  you,  and  you  alone, 
are  responsible  for  the  Admiral  Orloff's  work  in  the  republican 
cause  ?"  Petya  attempted  explanation,  but  in  so  rambling 
and  unintelligible  a  fashion  that  he  himself  at  last  was  forced 
to  give  up. 

"  I    repeat   my   claim,"    thundered    his   counsel,    "  for    a 


37«  KATYA 

psychiatric  examination  of  my  client  by  experts  to  be 
appointed  by  the  medical  faculty  of  any  university  outside 
Odessa." 

"  I  protest  I"  said  Petya,  stamping  his  foot. 

"  I  agree  with  the  accused,"  said  the  prosecuting  counsel. 
"  My  learned  colleague  persistently  confuses  lack  of  ability 
in  logical  thought  with  insanity.  Neither  this  court  nor  any 
other  can  undertake  a  psychiatric  examination  of  the  Russian 
Revolution." 

"  I  protest  against  that  expression.  The  present  trial  is 
not  concerned  with  an  idea,  which  it  pleases  my  learned 
colleague  to  style  The  Revolution,  but  a  man  of  flesh  and  blood, 
Captain  P.  K.  Orloff,  whom  I  have  the  honour  to  defend." 

"  I  submit  that  the  vehemence  of  my  honoured  opponent 
is  uncalled  for,"  answered  the  prosecuting  counsel.  "  I  have 
no  desire  to  convey  more  than  the  indisputable  fact  that  the 
man  of  flesh  and  blood,  my  learned  colleague's  client,  is  a 
kind  of  military  personification  of  the  idea  of  the  Russian 
Revolution,  which  fights  with  criminal  means  for  vague, 
indefinite  objects.  My  honoured  opponent  will  no  doubt 
challenge  my  right  to  use  the  word  '  criminal '  in  this  con- 
nection. Fortunately,  the  accused  himself  is  of  another 
opinion.  He  has,  according  to  his  own  confession,  made  all 
the  calculations  necessary  for  the  direction  of  the  rebel  war- 
ship's artillery — calculations  which  demanded  not  only 
technical  knowledge,  but  also  presence  of  mind  and  clearness 
of  brain,  in  order  to  give  such  painfully  successful  results 
as  we,  alas  1  have  seen.  And  all  this  was  done  with  the  direct 
intention  of  causing  misery  and  death  to  innocent  persons  ..." 

Petya  covered  his  face  with  his  hands. 

"...  without  any  possibility  of  achieving  aught  save 
death  and  misery.  It  is  of  no  importance  to  the  high  court 
here  assembled,  or  to  myself,  to  receive  a  medico-legal 
declaration  to  the  effect  that  the  accused's  political  views  are 
those  of  a  child.  If  it  can  be  any  satisfaction  to  my  learned 
colleague,  I  am  perfectly  willing  to  admit  that  his  client  is 
entirely  lacking  in  political  understanding.  But  the  calcu- 
lations made,  the  orders  given,  on  board  the  Admiral  Orloff, 
which  rendered  the  ship  so  deadly  a  weapon  in  the  revolu- 
tionary cause,  were  not  the  work  of  an  unsound  mind.  We 
have  heard  from  the  mouths  of  witnesses  that  the  accused  had 


THE  FINISHED  PATTERN  379 

the  reputation  of  being  skilled  in  matters  connected  with 
ordnance;  he  has  proved  that  it  was  well  deserved.  In  a 
case  of  so  dire  importance  as  that  before  the  high  tribunal, 
legal  quibbles  and  hair-splitting  prevarication  would  be  .  .  ." 

"  I  protest !"  shouted  the  counsel  for  the  defence  excitedly. 
"  I  demand  the  protection  of  the  high  court  against  this  un- 
worthy .  .  ." 

The  President  signed  to  the  prosecuting  counsel  to  proceed. 

"...  would  be  sadly  out  of  place.  Let  us  look  fairly  at 
realities  as  they  stand,  as,  I  am  bound  to  admit,  the  accused 
himself  seems  at  times  inclined  to  do.  The  accused  was 
ignorant  of  the  object  he  himself  and  his  mysterious  asso- 
ciates were  endeavouring  to  obtain.  It  is  probable  that  they 
have  disagreed  upon  that  point — as  is  frequently  the  case 
with  revolutionaries  in  this  country.  One  thing,  however, 
must  have  been  evident — obvious — to  the  accused:  that  he 
was  placing  his  knowledge  and  power  at  the  service  of  mur- 
derers. Hundreds  of  innocent  men,  women,  and  children 
have  died  by  his  hand.  His  brain  was  clear,  his  aim  was 
true — and  the  innocent  who  were  his  target  without  defence.'" 

Shaking  with  sobs,  Petya  begged  his  judges  for  sentence 
of  death.  But  his  counsel  fought  desperately  for  the  psy- 
chiatric examination.  His  wish  was  granted — and  Petya's 
sufferings  were  further  prolonged. 

But  the  cult  which  had  arisen  among  the  people,  who 
worshipped  their  "  Admiral  "  as  a  hero-martyr,  received  fresh 
nourishment  from  all  that  came  to  common  knowledge 
through  the  counsel  and  witnesses  for  the  defence.  In  work- 
shops and  factories,  in  the  harbour  and  on  the  quays,  in 
dram-shops  of  the  slums,  men  sang  of  Petya  and  his  mur- 
dered love.  The  crews  of  the  fleet  and  the  workers  in  the 
shipyards  of  Sevastopol  took  up  the  songs,  that  soon  reached 
far  and  wide  along  the  Russian  coast  of  the  Black  Sea.  The 
prosecuting  counsel  had  been  right:  hundreds  of  innocent 
had  fallen  by  Petya's  hand — men,  women,  and  children, 
mostly  of  the  poorest  class — and  more  had  lost  their  poor 
effects  in  the  destruction  of  Peressip.  But  the  people  forgave. 
The  prosecuting  counsel  did  not  understand;  his  colleague 
for  the  defence  could  find  no  other  explanation  of  Petya's 
action  but  insanity.  The  people  knew — or  thought  they 
understood.  They  had  heard  a  human  heart-beat  under  all. 


380  KATYA 

Their  own  ideals  were  echoed  in  Petya's  faith  in  the  Tsar, 
the  ruler  by  grace  of  God — his  simple,  unshakable  belief 
in  freedom.  They  were  as  little  capable  as  Petya  himself  of 
any  political  discussion.  But,  as  Petya,  they  had  writhed 
beneath  the  pitiless  lash  of  fate;  as  he,  they  had  felt  the 
bitterness  of  isolation. 

Captain  Orloff  might  have  saved  himself.  He  had  stayed 
and  shouldered  his  responsibility  as  a  man,  when  all  the  other 
leaders  of  revolt  had  fled  from  Odessa.  He  had  had  all  to 
lose,  nothing  to  gain,  in  joining  the  cause  for  which  he  had 
fought.  Faithfully  had  he  answered  to  the  call  that  asked 
his  aid  for  the  weak  and  persecuted  in  their  hour  of  need. 
The  innocent  blood  was  a  sacrifice  inevitable  in  the  cause  of 
freedom;  it  would  never  stain  his  hands.  God  would  be 
merciful  to  the  noble  soul  that  had  loved  the  people  so;  God 
would  be  with  him  now,  on  his  lonely  way  to  martyrdom  for 
the  cause  of  the  helpless  and  oppressed.  .  .  . 

Count  Dolgoruki  had  written  to  Sonya,  telling  her  all  that 
had  passed.  At  the  same  time  he  communicated  to  Katya 
Orloff's  words  on  the  evening  he  had  given  himself  up. 

It  was  more  than  a  week  before  the  letters  reached  Priluka. 
Sonya  wrote  in  reply  to  her  husband  that  she  and  Katya 
would  proceed  to  Kief  as  soon  as  possible,  and  thence  to 
Odessa  by  the  first  train  to  which  they  dared  entrust  them- 
selves. The  Count's  letter  had  come  as  a  terrific  thunderclap 
from  among  the  gathering  clouds  of  unrest.  The  district 
about  Priluka  had  been  disturbed  for  some  time.  Socialists 
and  Anarchists  had  distributed  pamphlets  among  the  peasants, 
informing  them  that  the  Tsar  had  given  them  permission,  as 
his  true  and  faithful  subjects,  to  take  possession  of  the  land- 
owners' estates,  the  harvest  of  their  fields,  their  cattle,  horses, 
and  other  property.  These  papers,  some  of  which  even  bore 
the  signature  "  Nikolai  II.,"  made  a  deep  impression  on  the 
minds  of  the  peasants.  Mikailo  had  heard  that  Vladimir 
Shipagin's  estate  of  Patkanovo  had  been  plundered,  Shipagin 
himself  and  his  old  mother  being  forced  to  seek  safety  in 
flight.  Suspicious  persons  had  made  their  appearance  near 
Priluka,  and  guard  was  kept  night  and  day.  And  the  general 
feeling  of  insecurity  was  increased  by  the  lack  of  all  news 
from  the  world  without. 

"Ever  since  Petya's  and  M.  Farringham's  sudden  depar 


THE  FINISHED  PATTERN  381 

ture,"  wrote  Sonya,  "  Katya  has  been  so  nervous  and  ex- 
citable that  we  feared  for  her  health.  In  spite  of  the  un- 
certain state  of  the  roads,  she  sends  messenger  after  messenger 
to  Dubni  for  letters.  They  aU  come  back  empty-handed, 
however,  and  we  had  not  the  least  knowledge  of  what  was 
going  on  elsewhere  in  Russia  until  your  letter — eight  days 
late — arrived  yesterday.  It  is  terrible  about  Petya — terrible  ! 
Thank  God  neither  papa  nor  mama  lived  to  see  it.  Do  all 
that  possibly  can  be  done  to  help  him,  dear.  You  know 
him,  and  you  know  that  he  never  wished  ill  to  any  soul  on 
earth.  He  needs  our  deepest  sympathy  now.  Katya  talks 
of  going  to  the  Tsar  himself,  to  intercede  for  him.  And  it  is 
true  when  she  says  that  neither  papa  nor  mama  would  have 
known  rest  until  every  means  had  been  tried.  ..." 

At  the  same  time  as  Count  Dolgoruki  received  his  wife's 
letter,  a  few  lines  from  Katya  arrived  at  the  old  house  in  the 
Konnaya,  announcing  her  impending  arrival.  "  I  will  come 
to  Odessa  if  I  have  to  walk  every  step  of  the  way,"  she  wrote 
in  a  hurried,  shakey  scrawl. 

General  Karatayef  read  the  note,  and  passed  it  to  Anna 
Nikolaievna.     She    glanced    through    it,    and    merely   said: 
'  Thank  you,  grandpapa.     I  will  see  that  mama's  rooms  are 
got  ready." 

As  soon  as  she  had  gone,  the  General  rang  for  Yussuf. 
The  Albanian  appeared.  He  had  long  since  discarded  the 
gorgeous  uniform  he  had  worn  as  Niki's  kavass,  and  was 
dressed  now  as  an  ordinary  Russian  citizen  of  the  middle 
class. 

"  Your  Excellency  sent  for  me  ?" 

"  Yes,  Yussuf,  my  friend.  Listen  to  me,  for  I  mean  what 
I  say.  To-day  you  shall  go  with  me  to  Peressip." 

Yussuf  shook  his  head.  "  Your  Excellency  knows  I  dare 
not  do  it,  unless  Anna  Nikolaievna  gives  permission." 

"  Sh  1  Yussuf,  my  good  friend,  say  nothing  to  her  about 
it.  Come,  now;  I  have  still  some  little  savings  left — a  little, 
a  very  little.  You  shall  have  it  if  you  will  only  go  with 
me. . . ." 

"It  is  no  use,  Your  Excellency.  Anna  Nikolaievna  and 
M.  Mandelberg  have  expressly  forbidden  me  to  take  Your 
Excellency  there.  I  dare  not  do  it.  And  there  is  nothing  to 
see.  It  is  not  nearly  so  bad  as  people  say.  .  .  ." 


382  KATYA 

"If  only  I  could..  .  .  if  only  I  dared  go  alone.  .  .  ." 
The  General  reached  for  his  sticks.  "  You  are  cruel,  all  of 
you;  you  take  advantage  of  a  weak  and  helpless  old  man.  .  .  . 
And  you,  Yussuf,  have  I  not  always  been  good  to  you  ?  .  .  ." 

"  Your  Excellency  should  not  speak  so.  Anna  Nikolaievna 
and  I  are  ready  and  glad  to  do  all  that  Your  Excellency 
wishes,  if  only  it  is  reasonable.  But  that  little  fire  in  Peressip, 
it  is  not  worth  going  a  step  to  see." 

"  You  lie  to  me,  all  of  you — Mandelberg  as  well.  I  am 
ruined.  Not  a  kopek  will  there  be  for  little  Anna.  .  .  .  For 
the  good  God's  sake,  Yussuf,  let  me  see  if  you  have  spoken 
truth,  or  if  it  is  all  but  lies.  ..." 

Anna  Nikolaievna  entered,  and  exchanged  a  glance  with 
Yussuf.  The  latter  shrugged  his  shoulders,  as  though  to  say : 
"  The  old  story !"  The  General  watched  them  closely, 
suspiciously. 

'  There,  grandpapa,  the  carriage  will  be  here  directly,  and 
then  we  will  go  for  a  drive  out  to  Arkadia.  We  can  go  through 
the  Nikolaiefski ;  you  like  that  way.  Uncle  Gavril  said  this 
morning  that  Odessa  has  never  been  so  quiet  as  it  is  now, 
so  wre  need  not  be  in  the  least  afraid." 

The  old  man  raised  his  hands  in  helpless,  piteous  appeal  to- 
wards the  girl. 

"  Anna,  little  Anna,  my  child,  be  good  to  me  ...  let  me 
see  with  my  own  eyes.  Remember,  it  is  my  life's  work — for 
your  father  and  yourself.  .  .  .  Little  Anna,  be  merciful.  ..." 

She  sat  down  on  the  arm  of  his  chair,  and  took  his  head  in 
to  her  breast  as  though  he  were  her  child.  "  Grandpapa, 
dear,  dear  grandpapa,  do  not  ask  me  ...  do  not  ask  me  any 
more.  Can  you  not  believe  us  all  when  we  tell  you  that  it  is 
not  so  bad,  after  all  ?  It  is  not  lost,  your  life's  work.  You 
know  Mandelberg  has  always  served  you  faithfully;  you  can 
believe  him  when  he  says  ..." 

"  I  can  hear  that  you  are  lying,  little  Anna.  Mandelberg, 
too,  and  Yussuf — all  of  you  whom  I  care  for — you  lie  to  me, 
and  will  not  move  a  hand  to  help  me.  I  am  alone  .  .  .  there 
is  no  one  that  is  true  any  more.  God's  wrath  is  come  upon 
me  now  that  I  am  old  .  .  .  there  is  no  mercy.  ..." 

Anna  and  Yussuf  looked  at  each  other,  as  seeking  counsel. 
The  girl  stroked  the  old  man's  hand. 

"  Grandpapa,"  she  said,   "  let  us  go  for  a  drive  out  to 


THE  FINISHED  PATTERN  383 

Arkadia  now,  and  when  mama  comes,  then  perhaps  she  and 
Aunt  Sonya  will  go  out  with  you  to  Peressip.  .  .  ." 

The  General  slowly  drew  his  hand  away.  "  No,"  he  said 
sharply.  "  I  will  see  Peressip  with  my  own  eyes  before  your 
mother  comes.  I  will  see  ..."  He  broke  off  suddenly. 

Yussuf  turned  from  the  window  where  he  was  standing, 
and  announced  that  the  carriage  had  arrived.  The  General 
began  again  entreatingly : 

"  Anna,  have  pity  I  Have  I  deserved  it  of  your  father,  of 
you,  that  you  should  be  so  hard  and  cruel  now  ?  Anna,  little 
Anna,  let  me  have  peace  1  Better  the  truth — any  truth — 
than  fear  and  nothing  known.  ..." 

The  girl  rose.  "  Grandpapa,"  she  said,  her  voice  betraying 
her  emotion,  "  stay  here  a  moment  with  Yussuf,  while  I  go 
up  and  speak  to  Mandelberg.  I  will  be  back  in  a  moment, 
and  tell  you  what  he  says." 

Scarcely  had  the  door  closed  behind  her  before  the  old 
General  again  attempted  with  prayers  and  promises  to  per- 
suade Yussuf  to  take  him  out  to  Peressip.  But  Niki's 
kavass  was  not  to  be  moved. 

Anna  Nikolaievna  found  the  advocate  deep  in  calculations. 
She  told  him  of  her  grandfather's  repeated  entreaties;  now, 
since  the  arrival  of  Katya's  letter,  more  insistent  than  ever. 

"  I  cannot  stand  it  any  longer,  Yakof  Isakovitch,"  she 
said.  "  Grandpapa  has  never  complained  before,  but  now 
he  is  like  a  sick  child.  He  knows  perfectly  well  that  we  are 
all  deceiving  him,  and  really  I  do  not  think  it  is  any  kindness 
to  hide  things  from  him  any  longer." 

"  It  is  a  heavy  burden  that  is  laid  on  your  young  shoulders, 
Anna  Nikolaievna,"  said  the  advocate.  "  Seventeen  .  .  . 
no  older  than  your  mother  was  when  she  became  engaged  to 
Niki.  .  .  .  Yes,  yes,  the  matter  in  hand.  .  .  .  Should  I  go 
down — perhaps  with  you — and  try  to  .  .  ." 

"  It  is  no  use,  Yakof  Isakovitch.  He  will  no  longer  believe 
either  your  word  or  mine." 

"  The  fact  is — h'm — I  don't  quite  know  how  to  put  it.  ..." 

"  You  may  speak  quite  frankly  to  me,  Yakof  Isakovitch. 
My  uncle  has  already  told  me  that  the  disaster  is  as  bad  as 
it  well  can  be." 

"  Of  course,  the  ground  will  retain  its  value.  And  the 
stone  and  timber  will  be  worth  something.  .  .  .  Still,  after 


384  KATYA 

all,  the  loss  is  enormous.  Your  fortune,  as  General  Kara- 
tayef's  principal  heir,  will  be  reduced  by  something  like  a 
million  roubles.  ...  It  is  no  use  my  hiding  it  from  you, 
Anna  Nikolaievna." 

"Never  mind  my  fortune,  Yakof  Isakovitch;  grandpapa 
is  waiting." 

But  the  advocate  continued,  his  pen  following  the  columns 
of  figures  on  the  paper  before  him.  "  Your  mother  loses 
practically  all  her  own  personal  fortune,  both  that  inherited 
from  her  father  and  the  houses  made  over  to  her  on  her 
wedding  day.  The  pension  from  the  State  has  not  yet  been 
granted.  I  do  not  see  how  Ekaterina  Sergeievna  will  manage 
when  Priluka  passes  to  your  cousin,  Prince  Alexander  Alex- 
androvitch,  next  year.  ..." 

"  My  grandfather  is  waiting." 

"  Can  you  understand,  Anna  Nikolaievna,  how  an  old 
friend  of  your  house,  a  man  like  Orloff,  could  find  it  in  his 
heart  .  .  ." 

"  It  may  be  that  I  understand.  I  also  have  once  sailed  on 
board  the  Admiral  Orloff." 

11  You  ?     When  was  that  ?" 

"  Two  years  ago,  when  they  brought  my  father's  body  to 
Odessa.  ..." 

"  Yes,  yes — of  course.     And  you  think  .  .  ." 

Anna  Nikolaievna  cut  him  short:  "  We  are  forgetting  my 
grandfather,  Yakof  Isakovitch." 

"  Do  you  think  your  grandfather  also  understands  .  .  . 
h'm,  how  am  I  to  ...  I  mean  .  .  ." 

"  My  grandfather  understands  as  well  as  I  do.  Even  if 
we  do  not  say  anything  to  each  other,  we  both  know — also 
about  Captain  Orloff  and  mama.  And  now  we  have  spoken 
enough  of  this,  Yakof  Isakovitch;  I  do  not  like  to  leave  my 
grandfather  alone." 

"  Forgive  me,  Anna  Nikolaievna,  but  you  will  understand 
my  deep  interest  in  this  sad  affair.  For  more  than  twenty- 
five  years  I  have  been  in  the  confidence  of  your  family,  both 
on  your  father's  and  your  mother's  side;  Orloff,  too,  I  know 
well.  He  came  up  here  one  day,  I  remember,  to  this  very 
office,  and  sat  there  asking  questions  about  Peressip — on 
behalf  of  a  friend,  he  said.  It  was  but  a  few  days  after  your 
parents'  engagement  had  been  announced  at  Priluka.  .  .  . 


THE  FINISHED  PATTERN  385 

You  are  right,  Anna  Nikolaievna ;  there  is  much  that  one  does 
not  understand  until  it  is  too  late." 

"  Dare  we  take  the  responsibility  of  further  preventing  my 
grandfather  from  visiting  Peressip,  Yakof  Isakovitch  ?  If 
only  Aunt  Sonya  were  here  !  She  and  grandfather  are  so 
fond  of  each  other." 

"  The  doctor — what  does  the  doctor  say  ?" 

"  Always  the  same  thing:  beyond  the  weakness  in  his  legs, 
there  is  nothing  whatever  the  matter." 

"  Perhaps  we  might  .  .  .  that  is  to  say,  if  you  will  prepare 
the  General  as  gently  as  possible,  Anna  Nikolaievna.  As 
gently  as  possible  ...  it  will  be  a  terrible  shock  .  .  .  and 
at  his  age.  .  .  ." 

"  But  when  the  fear  and  uncertainty  are  making  him  suffer, 
the  truth  can  scarcely  .  .  .  Oh,  I  wish  Aunt  Sonya  were 
here  !" 

"  You  cannot  persuade  the  General  to  wait  so  long  ?" 

"  He  plagues  Yussuf  every  day  to  go  with  him,  and  he  is 
beginning  to  feel  bitter  towards  me.  ...  It  is  cruel,  and 
for  my  father's  sake  also  .  .  ." 

"  Then, try  it,  Anna  Nikolaievna,  try  it.  Go  with  him,  and 
stay  beside  him.  You  are  the  one  he  loves  best  in  all  the 
world.  I  myself  can  be  of  little  use,  I  fear.  The  General  is 
too  clever  a  man  to  be  deceived  by  phrases  and  evasive 
explanations.  I  have  already  noticed  that  he  is  perfectly 
aware  of  the  invalidity  of  the  policies,  in  spite  of  all  my 
attempts  to  make  matters  look  brighter.  Try  it,  Anna 
Nikolaievna;  you  can  help  him  if  anyone  can." 

When  Anna  re-entered  the  room  where  the  General  sat,  the 
old  man  fixed  his  eyes  upon  her,  like  a  prisoner  striving  to 
read  his  sentence  in  the  eyes  of  his  judge. 

She  told  him  as  carefully  as  possible  what  he  must  expect. 
They  had  hidden  the  truth  from  him,  she  said,  fearing  lest 
the  shock  should  be  too  much  for  him  at  first.  "  But  do  not 
mind  about  the  money,  dear  grandpapa.  It  is  so  little  a 
thing  that  I  lose  some  part  of  what  you  wished  to  give  me. 
Father  and  you  have  given  me  an  inheritance  that  nothing 
can  take  away.  I  love  you  both — and  I  thank  you,  dear, 
dear  grandpapa,  because  I  love  you  so.  .  .  ." 

He  took  her  in  his  arms,  and  grew  more  calm,  as  though 
her  words  had  brought  him  peace  of  mind.  "  Child,"  he 

25 


386  KATYA 

whispered,  "  when  you  speak  so,  I  almost  dare  to  think  that 
God  has  forgiven  me.  For  your  love's  sake  He  has  willed 
that  I  should  not  live  in  vain.  .  .  .  Lord,  now  lettest  Thou 
Thy  servant.  .  .  ." 

He  bowed  his  head,  and  the  words  died  in  a  murmur.  Then, 
taking  his  sticks,  and  leaning  heavily  on  Yussuf's  arm,  he 
rose  and  went  down  to  the  waiting  carriage.  Anna  Niko- 
laievna  placed  herself  by  his  side,  and  took  his  hand. 

They  drove  in  a  wide  sweep  to  the  west  round  behind  the 
Municipal  Hospital.  That  part  of  Peressip  which  could  be 
seen  from  here — the  part  farthest  from  the  coast — was  un- 
harmed. But  as  the  carriage  passed  along  the  edge  of  the 
plateau,  nearing  the  steep  roads  that  lead  down  to  the  low- 
lying  fields,  the  extent  of  the  destruction  became  mercilessly 
apparent.  And  when  they  drew  up  at  the  entrance  to  Novaya 
Ekaterinskaya,  the  whole  of  that  ghastly  scene  of  wreckage 
and  ruin  lay  spread  out  before  the  General's  eyes. 

He  said  no  word.  His  hand  withdrew  itself  from  the  girl's 
clasp ;  he  sat  staring  in  horror  at  the  devastation.  The  whole 
quarter  was  closed  for  traffic;  a  detachment  of  firemen  and 
a  company  of  engineers  were  at  work  among  the  still  smoulder- 
ing debris.  Now  and  then  the  faint  report  of  a  buried  cartridge 
sounded  dully  on  the  air.  Parts  of  the  walls  still  stood, 
apparently  unscathed,  with  heaps  of  stone  and  timber  at 
their  foot:  in  other  places  the  house  fronts  were  cracked 
across,  as  though  slit  with  a  knife,  revealing  broken  furniture, 
and  wallpaper,  burnt  and  torn,  in  the  rooms  behind.  Ends 
of  charred  beams  projected  from  the  heaps  of  brick  and  stone; 
grotesquely  twisted  sections  of  pipe  appeared  in  the  ragged 
gaps  of  the  walls  and  in  the  dark  openings  of  windows.  The 
lines  of  the  streets  were  for  the  most  part  blotted  out.  A 
lamp-post  raised  its  head  above  a  heap  of  rubbish  like  a  buoy 
lifting  on  the  swell  of  waters.  The  intermittent  gusts  from 
seaward  raised  now  and  then  a  cloud  of  ashes  that  wiped  away 
the  red  and  black  of  fire,  giving  to  Peressip  its  death-grey 
pallor  once  more.  The  walls  of  Novaya  Ekaterinskaya  had 
fallen  half  inwards,  half  out  towards  the  sea;  the  spray  from 
the  waves  along  the  coast  was  flung  up  against  a  mighty  dyke 
of  ruin. 

Soot-blackened  heaps  and  mounds  of  stone  were  every- 
where, picked  out  with  fragments  of  household  goods  and 


THE  FINISHED  PATTERN  387 

broken  utensils.  Signs  hung  dangling  gibbet-wise  from 
door-frames,  and  rags  of  half-burned  curtains  fluttered  through 
splintered  panes. 

An  indefinable  stench  of  burnt  and  putrefying  things  rose 
from  the  site  of  desolation.  The  rotting  foodstuffs  had 
attracted  millions  of  flies.  Gulls  and  crows  hovered  and 
waddled  above  and  about  the  ruins;  homeless  dogs  sniffed 
at  the  heaps  of  rubbish.  A  breath  of  pestilence  was  spread 
abroad  from  ruined  Peressip  over  the  town  and  harbour. 

Only  the  church  that  bore  the  holy  name  of  St.  Sofia  lifted 
its  domes  of  unpolluted  blue  above  the  wreck  of  the  foul 
slums  below. 

General  Karatayef  stared  out  over  the  field  of  battle,  where 
his  life's  work  lay  irreparably  destroyed.  Anna  Nikolaievna 
stroked  his  hand,  essayed  to  speak  to  him;  he  seemed  to 
neither  hear  nor  feel  her  presence. 

Twice  on  the  way  back  to  Konnaya  did  words  pass  his 
lips. 

"  Little  Anna,  my  child,"  he  said,  speaking  with  closed 
eyes,  "  that  work  was  builded  for  your  mother's  sake,  and 
for  her  sake  it  was  destroyed." 

A  little  later  he  added : 

"  Petya  Orloff's  hands  are  clean,  as  his  father's  were. 
But  mine  were  soiled  and  coarse.  .  .  .  God's  wrath  is  very 
terrible.  ..." 

"  Grandpapa,  dear  grandpapa,  I  love  you  so  !  .  .  ."  Anna 
Nikolaievna  found  no  more  to  say. 

The  old  man  opened  his  eyes,  that  rested  with  unspeakable 
tenderness  upon  the  child,  the  daughter  of  his  murdered  son. 
But  he  said  no  word. 

Yussuf  helped  him  to  alight,  and  supported  him  up  the 
steps  into  his  study.  As  soon  as  the  two  were  alone,  the 
General  turned  to  Niki's  kavass : 

"  Yussuf,  my  friend,"  he  said,  "  this  house  will  be  empty 
soon.  Mandelberg  will  know  what  to  do.  ...  I  have 
arranged  for  you  so  that  you  can  spend  the  rest  of  your  days 
in  comfort;  there  will  be  sufficient  for  that,  at  least.  May 
God  reward  you  for  your  faithfulness  to  me  and  to  my  son  ! 
But  I  ask  a  promise  of  you,  Yussuf  .  .  .  that  you  do  not 
leave  Anna  Nikolaievna  before  she  herself  desires  it.  Watch 
over  her,  Yussuf:  she  will  have  no  one  else  when  I  am  gone." 


388  KATYA 

Yussuf  seized  his  master's  hand,  and  would  have  kissed  it, 
but  the  old  man  drew  it  away. 

A  little  later  Yussuf  led  the  General  to  his  place  at  table. 
Scarcely  a  word  was  spoken  during  the  meal.  Miss  Warden 
cast  anxious  glances  from  time  to  time  at  Anna  Nikolaievna 
and  her  grandfather. 

Once  more  the  General  sat  in  his  deep  chair.  Darkness 
fell,  a  servant  lit  the  lamps  and  set  the  samovar  in  place. 
And  then,  as  had  been  her  custom  all  the  years  that  she  had 
lived  with  her  grandfather,  Anna  Nikolaievna  locked  the 
door,  saw  that  the  curtains  were  close  drawn,  and  took  from 
the  cupboards  in  the  writing-table  the  canvas  frame,  needles, 
scissors,  thimble,  many  coloured  silks — all  possible  requisites 
for  fine  embroidery.  She  brought  her  grandfather  his 
spectacles,  and  placed  herself  quietly  beside  him  with  her  own 
needlework,  careful  not  to  break  the  silence  that  she  knew 
he  had  learned  to  love  in  his  many  lonely  years. 

This  was  the  old  man's  happiest  hour.  When  he  sat  so, 
the  child  by  his  side,  and  chose  his  silk  of  whispering  and 
plaintive  hues,  he  could  at  times  feel  that  he  asked  no  more. 
In  the  last  chapter  of  his  story  of  a  little  girl's  life,  good 
fairies  gathered  once  more  about  the  hearth  and  tended  its 
kindly  glow.  The  sunlight  faded  gently  into  dark ;  bright  stars 
were  lit  to  guide  the  wanderer  to  the  distant  gpal. 

General  Karatayef's  needle  played  through  the  tight- 
stretched  stuff.  A  picture  was  in  making;  a  world  of  strife 
and  love  grew  under  his  hands. 

But  in  a  little  time  his  hands  fell  wearily  into  his  lap. 
He  drew  the  girl  towards  him,  and  kissed  her  hair. 

"  God  guard  you  and  be  kind  to  you,  loved  child,"  he  said, 
placing  a  hand  upon  her  brow.  "  Pray  for  me,  Anna,  after 
I  am  gone.  Be  strong,  dear  child,  and  pure  in  the  war  of 
life,  and  you  shall  be  happy  in  love." 

He  raised  himself  with  difficulty,  holding  her  arm. 

"  Good-night,  little  Anna."  He  took  his  sticks.  "  I  am 
very  tired,  and  it  is  time  to  rest." 

Anna  Nikolaievna  put  away  the  work,  removing  carefully 
its  every  trace,  and  listening  the  while  to  the  sounds  that 
told  the  old  man's  way  into  the  locked  room,  where  memories 
of  time  past  lay  balsamed  in  the  dust  of  years. 


DETHRONED  389 

It  was  yet  early  to  go  to  bed.  She  took  a  book  and  half 
began  to  read,  her  ears  still  wakeful  for  each  slightest  sound. 

An  hour  passed.  Anna  Nikolaievna  rose,  suddenly  uneasy. 
Half  an  hour  more — no,  a  quarter — and  she  would  go  and 
knock.  Better,  perhaps,  at  once.  She  forced  herself  to 
watch  the  hands  of  the  clock,  that  crept  at  snail's  pace 
through  five  minutes  more.  Then,  as  it  reached  the  next 
figure  on  the  face,  she  stole  quietly  out,  and  knocked  softly 
at  the  door. 

There  came  no  answering  voice.  In  sudden  fear  she  knocked 
again,  but  very  little  louder,  and  went  in. 

General  Karatayef  sat  with  his  head  upon  his  hands, 
bowed  over  the  old  mahogany  cabinet  which  held  the  little 
treasures  that  had  been  his  dead  wife's. 

And  it  was  ended,  ended  at  long  last,  the  weary  pilgrimage 
through  mire  and  thorn. 


CHAPTER   XI 

DETHRONED 

FOUR  days  after  General  Karatayef's  death,  Katya  and  her 
sister  arrived  in  Odessa.  The  funeral  had  already  taken 
place.  The  summer  of  that  year  had  been  a  time  of  plague 
and  pestilence  in  the  semi-Oriental  town  on  the  Black  Sea, 
and  the  health  authorities  were  strict.  With  almost  painful 
haste,  the  old  man  was  laid  to  rest  by  the  side  of  Anna 
Dimitrievna  and  his  son.  The  peace  of  the  grave  embraced 
those  three,  whom  love  had  bound  so  closely  in  their  war 
with  life. 

In  the  presence  of  Sonya  and  Count  Dologruki,  Advocate 
Mandelberg  made  Katya  and  her  children  acquainted  with 
the  provisions  of  the  General's  will.  None  of  those  present 
could  fail  to  understand  that  the  document  had  been  dictated 
by  a  mind  full  of  hostility  towards  Katya.  She  needed  all 
her  self-control  to  refrain  from  giving  vent  to  her  anger,  as 
the  man  of  business  explained,  with  all  possible  consideration, 
the  exact  purport  of  the  dispositions,  which  thrust  her  aside, 
separating  her  even  from  her  own  children. 

Everything  was  so  clearly  thought  out,  so  cleverly  arranged, 


390  KATYA 

that  the  two  executors,  Count  Dolgoruki  and  Mandelberg 
himself,  would  have  had  an  easy  task  but  for  the  fact  that 
the  disaster  in  Peressip  had  upset  most  of  the  calculations  on 
which  the  will  was  based.  The  General  had  bequeathed  a 
large  fortune,  but  over  two-thirds  of  the  total  amount  was 
derived  from  the  property  in  Peressip.  Under  the  circum- 
stances, it  would  take  years  to  realize  the  sums  involved. 
Katya's  children  inherited  that  part  of  the  suburb  which  had 
belonged  to  their  grandfather.  It  was  impossible,  however,  as 
things  stood,  to  give  even  a  vague  estimate  of  value  of  the 
buildings.  Anna  Nikolaievna  was  to  have  the  house  in  the 
Konnaya,  with  all  it  contained,  besides  all  the  remaining 
property  which  the  testator  was  free  to  dispose  of,  save  some 
two  hundred  thousand  roubles.  Count  Gavril  Dolgoruki 
was  appointed  guardian  to  the  children. 

Besides  Peressip,  however,  and  the  house  in  the  Konnaya, 
there  were  about  five  hundred  thousand  roubles  in  other 
securities.  Of  these,  thirty  thousand  roubles  were  to  be  given 
to  the  church  of  St.  Sofia  in  Peressip,  and  a  sum,  not  definitely 
fixed,  was  to  be  used  for  the  purchase  of  an  annuity  of  one 
thousand  five  hundred  roubles  for  Yussuf.  Moreover,  "  to 
Countess  Sofia  Sergeievna  Dolgoruki,  nee  Princess  Rilinski, 
one  hundred  thousand  roubles,  in  poor  acknowledgment  of 
my  debt  of  gratitude  to  my  dear  friend,  and  my  grandson's 
loving  true  mother."  Immediately  after  this  clause  in  the 
will  followed  another:  "To  Peotr  Konstantinovitch  Orloff, 
twenty-five  thousand  roubles,  from  his  dead  friend's  father, 
and  in  remembrance  of  a  journey  we  once  made  together." 

This  last  was  the  cause  of  much  discussion.  No  one  save 
Sonya  could  remember  what  journey  was  referred  to — and  she 
said  nothing.  Katya  was  at  a  loss  to  understand  why  her 
father-in-law,  who  had  scarcely  known  Petya,  should  remem- 
ber him  in  his  will,  and  that  with  a  sum  which  to  one  in 
Orloff 's  circumstances  amounted  almost  to  a  fortune.  Strange 
also,  to  hear  such  words  so  short  time  after  Orloff  himself 
had  destroyed  the  work  of  General  Karatayef's  life  !  Would 
Petya  ever  come  into  possession  of  his  inheritance  ?  Could 
it  be  of  any  use  to  him  in  his  present  situation  ? 

Advocate  Mandelberg  called  attention  to  the  fact  that  the 
twenty-five  thousand  roubles  were  already,  practically  speak- 
ing, the  property  of  Captain  Orloff  or  his  heirs.  In  case  of  his 


DETHRONED  391 

being  condemned  to  death,  the  money  would  probably  pass 
to  his  sister  Olga,  otherwise  the  State  would  hold  the  money 
in  trust  for  him  until  the  expiration  of  his  term  of  punish- 
ment. 

"It  is  horrible  to  hear  you  speak  like  that,  Yakof  Isako- 
vitch,"  said  Katya.  "  One  would  think  you  were  already 
certain  that  Petya  would  be  sentenced  to  death,  or  to  life- 
long imprisonment  in  Siberia,  or  .  .  ." 

"  But  there  is  no  question  as  to  that,  Ekaterina  Sergeievna," 
put  in  Count  Dolgoruki.  "  Advocate  Mandelberg  is  perfectly 
right.  Indeed,  in  my  opinion,  there  is  not  even  the  alternative 
he  mentions.  In  such  a  case  as  this,  the  court  cannot  possibly 
pass  any  sentence  save  that  of  death." 

"  We  shall  see  ...  we  shall  see  ..."  said  Katya  fiercely. 
"  I  will  save  Petya,  if  I  have  to  kneel  to  the  Tsar  for  his  life !" 

Katya  had  indeed  no  other  object  in  coming  to  Odessa 
than  to  throw  all  her  energies  into  the  fight  on  his  side.  It 
seemed  to  her  years  since  that  night,  but  fourteen  days  ago, 
when  Mikailo  had  returned  from  Dubni  with  the  news  of 
Petya's  departure  and  his  own  meeting  with  Farringham. 

Petya's  flight  she  could  understand.  She  called  Heaven  to 
witness  that  she  had  found  it  bitterly  hard  to  refuse  him, 
her  dearest  friend,  the  hope  he  had  begged  for.  But  she  had 
no  choice;  it  was  true  what  she  had  said,  that  she  was  bound 
to  another.  .  .  .  That  same  night  she  had  written  to  Petya, 
and  told  him  that  all  was  changed,  that  she  needed  him,  that 
they  would  row  and  steer  together  now  for  all  their  lives.  .  .  . 
Why  had  he  not  answered  ?  Why  had  he  not  come  as  he 
had  promised  ?  Why  had  he  not  heard  her  cry  for  help  ? 

She  loved  Petya  for  the  despair  which  he  had  shown  in 
that  sudden  flight.  But  his  silence  she  could  not  understand. 
She  hated  the  revolution,  which  interrupted  railway,  post, 
and  telegraph  services.  Sonya  had  tried  to  dissuade  her 
from  continually  sending  messengers  into  Dubni.  Katya 
would  not  hear.  She  was  longing  for  some  word,  some  sign, 
from  Petya.  And  she  knew  how  it  would  sound  when  at 
last  it  came;  she  could  hear  the  cry  of  joy  with  which  her 
lover  now  would  greet  the  news  that  she  was  free.  .  .  .  She 
was  furious  against  the  authorities,  who  could  not  keep  order 
in  the  country,  so  that  her  message  to  Petya  could  find  its 
way  to  the  heart  that  was  waiting  in  trembling  fear. 


392  KATYA 

And  when  at  last  Count  Dolgoruki's  letter  had  arrived, 
with  its  news  of  "  the  Admiral  "  and  his  deed,  Katya  had 
thought  at  first  she  must  go  mad.  Soon,  however,  some  light 
began  to  dawn  about  the  desperate  action.  Words  and  sug- 
gestions, half  forgotten,  came  into  her  mind,  fraught  now 
with  meaning  she  had  never  dreamed.  She  was  filled  with 
an  intoxicating  feeling  of  pride.  The  world  would  think 
that  Petya  had  acted  for  the  sake  of  a  revolutionary  idea, 
or  had  been  the  tool  of  one  of  the  conspiracies  which  were 
shaking  the  whole  of  the  Russian  Empire.  But  she  knew 
that  his  splendid  ship  had  risen  in  revolt,  its  mighty  cannon 
thundered,  for  her  sake  !  Others  would  think  that  Admiral 
Orloff's  son  had  been  insane;  she  knew  that  when  he  had 
destroyed  those  accursed  houses  by  the  shores  of  the  Black  Sea, 
it  had  been  because  of  the  love  that  filled  his  heart  for  her. 

Never  had  woman  had  so  splendid  a  lover;  never  had  any 
lit  such  fire  of  passion  as  that  which  had  flamed  beside  the 
Black  Sea's  coast,  filling  a  world  with  horror.  No  man  could 
be  greater,  none  more  worthy  of  her  love,  than  he  who  for  her 
sake  had  done  so  terrible  a  deed. 

She  needed  also  to  feel  her  pride  and  confidence  once  more 
awake  and  strong.  Farringham's  flight  had  been  a  humilia- 
tion— the  bitterest  offence  in  all  her  experience  of  men.  His 
letter  from  England  had  not  yet  reached  Priluka;  she  knew 
nothing  of  his  having  listened,  nothing  of  his  motives.  She 
guessed,  however,  that  he  had  left  in  anger  and  disappoint- 
ment over  her  relation  to  Petya.  But  Farringham  was  now 
almost  eliminated  from  her  consciousness;  it  was  not  foi- 
l's sake  that  she  had  sent  messengers  to  Dubni.  This 
Englishman,  this  foreigner,  would  never  have  been  capable 
of  action  such  as  Petya's.  Farringham's  offence  against  her 
womanhood  left  no  deep  mark;  "the  Admiral's"  deed  had 
given  her  such  redress  as  should  be  graven  in  the  history  of 
her  land. 

And  therefore,  also,  Petya  must  be  saved.  His  faithful  love 
had  raised  the  revolution  from  its  meaner,  earthly  level  to  a 
height  where  noblest  human  feelings  reign.  The  name  of 
"  Orloff  "  has  its  origin  in  the  Russian  word  for  "  eagle," 
and  an  eagle  he  had  proved,  her  Admiral — a  royal  creature, 
soaring  towards  the  sun,  lord  of  the  upper  air,  and  worthy 
of  Ekaterina  Rilinski  ! 


DETHRONED  393 

All  else  seemed  small  beside  Petya's  ill  fate  and  the  struggle 
for  his  future  and  her  own.  What  did  it  matter  to  Katya 
that  her  fortune  had  been  diminished  by  the  very  deed  which 
he  had  done  for  her  sake  !  Enough  there  would  be  yet 
for  that  life  of  peace  which  now  at  last  seemed  within  her 
reach.  The  General's  will  had  hurt  her  cruelly,  but  his  power 
could  not  rob  her  of  that  which  she  had  inherited  from  her 
mother,  and  all  that  her  own  share  of  Peressip  might  yield. 
The  children  would  be  richer,  far  richer,  than  she  herself. 
But  Priluka  was  still  hers,  and  there,  in  her  old  home,  there 
must  be  room  for  Petya  and  herself,  even  after  the  place  had 
passed  into  Sasha's  possession. 

With  the  aid  of  Count  Dolgoruki,  Katya  speedily  obtained 
an  interview  with  the  Governor-General,  whom  she  herself 
also  knew.  She  did  all  in  her  power  to  win  over  the  Prince ; 
her  womanly  art,  which  had  subdued  so  many,  had  never  risen 
to  such  brilliant  height  as  now.  She  dared  to  the  uttermost 
of  her  power,  straining  her  will  and  charm  almost  to  breaking- 
point.  And  Prince  Olenin  bowed  to  her.  He  sought  her  of 
his  own  free-will;  his  carriage  was  to  be  seen  early  and  late 
before  the  old  house  in  the  Konnaya.  He  let  his  wife  over- 
whelm her  with  invitations,  and  begged  the  Count  and 
Countess  Dolgoruki  to  give  him  opportunities  of  meeting  her 
in  their  home.  She  was  admitted  to  his  presence  as  often 
as  she  desired,  and  the  highest  civil  and  military  officials  of 
the  district  waited  for  hours  in  his  antechamber  while  Madame 
Karatayef  was  with  him. 

As  soon,  however,  as  she  attempted,  by  careful  manoeuvring 
of  the  conversation,  or  by  bold  digressions,  to  bring  up  the 
subject  of  Petya,  he  shrugged  his  shoulders,  and  put  the 
matter  aside.  He  tried  to  make  her  understand  that  Petya's 
fate  was  in  the  hands  of  the  tribunal,  not  of  the  administrative 
government;  he  told  her  time  and  again  that  all  her  efforts 
must  be  without  avail.  Orloff  would  be  condemned  to  death, 
and  no  power  could  save  him.  There  was  not  a  court  in 
Russia,  not  an  authority  of  any  kind,  that  would  so  much  as 
dare  to  recommend  "  the  Admiral  "  to  the  mercy  of  the 
Tsar.  By  every  law,  civil  or  military,  his  life  was  forfeit, 
as  a  woman  of  Katya's  intelligence  could  not  fail  to  see  without 
the  need  of  explanation. 

All  Katya's  efforts  were  in  vain.     Prince  Olenin  would  have 


394  KATYA 

acceded  to  her  wish  had  there  been  question  of  any  other 
but  "  the  Admiral."  For  him  there  was  no  hope;  the  eyes  of 
Russia,  of  Europe,  were  upon  this  man,  watching  what 
punishment  would  be  meted  out  to  him. 

Katya  obtained  access  to  the  President  of  the  military 
tribunal.  As  soon  as  he  had  heard  her  errand  he  cut  her 
short.  Next  time  she  came  he  declined  to  receive  her.  She 
attempted  to  approach  the  judges  singly;  they  were  warned 
in  time,  and  she  did  not  succeed  in  seeing  any  of  them.  The 
prosecuting  counsel  treated  her  brusquely,  almost  scornfully; 
his  inquiry  as  to  whether  she  desired  to  be  called  as  a  witness 
for  the  defence,  and  make  a  statement  concerning  Petya's  stay 
at  Priluka  immediately  before  the  mutiny,  terrified  her  to 
such  a  degree  that  she  hastily  retired. 

The  counsel  for  the  defence  received  her  to  begin  with  as 
a  very  welcome  ally.  Through  her  influence  with  Prince 
Olenin,  he  succeeded  in  obtaining  several  concessions  in  the 
prison  regime,  which  made  Petya's  confinement  somewhat 
more  endurable.  He  also  informed  Katya  that  the  attitude 
of  hostility  which  Petya  had  lately  adopted  towards  himself 
had  changed  now  to  one  of  something  like  confidence,  the 
alteration  being  due  to  the  fact  that  the  advocate  now  came 
with  messages  from  Katya  at  each  visit,  more  kindly  and 
affectionate  than  Petya  ever  had  dared  to  hope  for. 

Soon,  however,  both  Katya  and  her  lover  found  it  necessary 
to  break  off  their  relations  with  the  zealous  advocate.  From 
words  that  they  had  let  fall,  and  more  especially  from  their 
tone  and  manner,  the  counsel  for  the  defence  had  hit  upon  a 
clue  which  he  set  himself  to  follow  up  with  eagerness.  Was 
it  possible  that  anything  should  have  happened  during 
Orloff's  stay  at  Priluka  immediately  preceding  the  fatal 
happenings  in  Odessa,  which  might  be  considered  as  having 
contributed  to  the  disturbed  state  of  mind  in  which  the 
accused  had  evidently  been  on  his  return  ?  The  advocate 
asked  questions  and  threw  out  hints.  He  mentioned  the 
possibility  of  calling  not  only  Katya,  but  also  her  sister  and 
the  servants  at  Priluka,  as  witnesses  for  the  defence.  "  The 
man  who  drove  Orloff  to  Dubni,  and  the  driver  who  took  him 
on  to  Koronevo,  should  be  able  to  give  us  valuable  informa- 
tion," he  said,  and  returned  to  the  idea  several  times.  Both 
Katya  and  Orloff  himself,  however,  insisted  that  nothing  had 


DETHRONED  395 

happened  at  Priluka.  He  had  been  called  to  Princess  Rilinski's 
death-bed;  that  was  all.  It  could  do  no  good,  and  might  do 
harm,  to  pursue  that  line  of  investigation.  All  the  witnesses 
from  Priluka  would  agree  that  Petya  had  been  perfectly  natural 
all  the  time,  his  own  self  as  they  all  had  known  him  from  his 
earliest  years.  .  .  . 

Fearing  somewhat  the  possible  effects  of  her  interference, 
Katya  broke  off  her  negotiations  with  Petya's  counsel.  But 
the  latter  retained  his  suspicions.  He  did  not  dare,  however, 
to  risk  offending  Katya,  hoping  still  to  obtain  some  advantage 
through  her  influence  with  Prince  Olenin. 

It  was,  of  course,  inevitable  that  Katya  should  learn  of 
Petya's  relation  to  Pashka.  The  whole  of  the  Moscow 
advocate's  defence  was  based  upon  this  fact,  and  he  was 
continually  referring  to  details  of  their  intimacy,  which  he 
had  obtained  through  Andrei  and  Arina,  or  from  Varya's 
and  Pashka's  own  parents.  Of  all  the  disappointments  which 
Katya  encountered  in  the  course  of  her  conversations  with 
Petya's  counsel,  none  was  more  bitter  to  her  than  his  deter- 
mination to  make  Pashka  the  chief  point  in  his  defence.  She 
felt  no  ill-will  towards  Petya  for  his  liaison  with  this  child 
of  the  people.  He  had  told  her  the  truth  himself  that  evening 
in  the  boat.  But  she  felt  it  cruel  to  be  obliged  to  hide  her 
Admiral's  passionate  love  for  herself.  Both  she  and  Petya 
did  all  in  their  power,  as  though  by  tacit  agreement,  to  deceive 
his  counsel  on  this  point,  in  order  to  avoid  involving  her  in 
this  dangerous  trial,  the  echoes  of  which  were  heard  far  up 
in  the  highest  circles  of  society.  Petya  had  destroyed  all 
letters  which  could  compromise  her.  There  could  be  no  proof; 
he  and  she  alone  knew  of  their  great  secret.  But  all  Russia 
learned  that  the  woman  for  whose  sake  the  "  Admiral's  "  guns 
had  thundered  was  Pashka,  a  child  of  the  people  whom  he  had 
loved.  The  lurid  beacon  which  had  flamed  far  out  across  the 
Black  Sea  had  been  lit  for  her  sake.  The  royal  eagle,  ruler  of 
the  upper  air,  had  spread  its  wings  and  sharpened  claws  to 
avenge  the  death  of  Pashka  Petroff.  She  was  the  woman  this 
most  splendid  lover  had  chosen  ! 

Each  evening  when  Katya  went  to  rest  in  the  old  house  in  the 
Konnaya  she  felt  herself  weary  and  bitter.  Again  there  sounded 
in  her  ears  a  sorrowful  whisper  from  that  City  of  Suffering : 

"  Too  late  .    .  it  is  too  late  !" 


396  KATYA 

Captain  Orloff's  sister,  Olga  Konstantinovna  Dunayef, 
arrived  from  Turkestan  after  a  journey  of  some  weeks.  Both 
Katya  and  Sonya  received  her  kindly,  and  did  what  they 
could  to  help  her  when  she  began  the  same  hopeless,  weary 
pilgrimage  which  Katya  herself  had  made.  But  she  could 
not  even  obtain  permission  to  visit  her  brother  in  his  prison. 
The  psychiatric  examination  was  in  progress;  the  counsel  for 
the  defence  went  back  to  Moscow  to  await  the  result.  He 
advised  Olga  Konstantinovna  to  proceed  to  St.  Petersburg 
and  endeavour  to  obtain  audience  of  the  Tsar  himself ;  in  his 
opinion  no  one  else  should  move  in  the  matter  at  all,  as  this 
could  only  excite  suspicion  and  ill-will.  Katya,  however,  used 
her  influence  unobtrusively,  furnishing  Petya's  sister  with 
funds,  as  well  as  letters  of  introduction  to  Madame  Miliukin, 
the  Dowager  Countess  Dolgoruki,  and  other  influential  ladies 
in  the  capital  who  would  be  able  to  assist  her  in  her  difficult 
task. 

It  was  not  without  good  reason  that  Petya's  counsel  had 
sought  to  dissuade  Katya  from  further  interference.  Too 
much  had  transpired  already;  through  the  offices  of  the 
Governor- General,  the  families  of  the  judges,  the  prison 
authorities,  and  the  counsel  on  either  side,  it  had  leaked  out 
that  Ekaterina  Sergeievna  Karatayef,  nee  Princess  Rilinski, 
was  taking  an  active  part  in  the  defence  of  the  Admiral  of 
mutineers.  All  found  it  but  natural  that  Orloff 's  sister  should 
do  all  in  her  power  to  save  her  brother.  But  Madame  Kara- 
tayef !  What  could  this  man's  fate  be  to  her  ?  Was  she 
perhaps  herself  one  of  the  revolutionary  party's  aristocratic 
supporters?  Had  she  been  allied  with  that  "Admiral  "of 
dread  ? 

Those  of  the  Odessa  papers  which  belonged  to  the  Union 
of  True  Russians  and  similar  societies  began  to  make  com- 
ment. It  commenced  with  inquiries  from  readers,  who  asked 
if  it  were  true  that  a  certain  Madame  E.  S.  K.,  nee  R.,  was 
using  her  influence  on  behalf  of  a  man  who  had  led  revolt 
against  his  country  and  the  Tsar;  a  man  whose  name  was  a 
disgrace  to  the  Russian  navy  ?  Little  by  little  the  journals 
became  bolder.  An  article  appeared  in  one  of  the  principal 
dailies,  with  Katya's  name  in  full,  couched  in  the  most  un- 
compromising terms.  The  writer  referred,  in  language  almost 
lyrical,  to  the  reception  given  by  Odessa  to  the  widow  of 


DETHRONED  397 

Consul  Karatayef  two  years  before.  "  Those  cheers  of 
welcome  ring  yet  in  our  ears ;  cheers  for  a  woman  whose  noble 
husband  fell  by  a  dastard  hand,  and  who  had  herself  deserved 
the  admiration  of  all  Slavs.  '  Slava,  Knyaginya,  slava !'  (Hail, 
Princess,  hail !)  was  heard  from  high  and  low  in  this  our  city 
where  the  Empire  of  the  Tsar  meets  the  wide  East.  It  may 
be  Consul  Karatayef's  widow  has  forgotten  since  where  lies 
her  husband's  grave.  But  all  men  know  that  when  she  makes 
entry  into  Odessa  her  purpose  is  to  wrest  from  the  hands  of 
justice  a  miscreant  who  has  brought  lasting  shame  upon  the 
Russian  flag;  whose  bloody  hand  has  sent  hundreds  of  inno- 
cents to  a  death  of  horror.  Has  she  forgotten  what  she  owes 
to  the  honoured  names  her  husband  and  her  father  bore  ? 
thousands  of  Russian  men  and  women  ask;  and  if  she  would 
but  listen  to  that  people's  voice  which  sounded  once  so  pleasant 
in  her  ears,  she  would  hear  how  it  trembles  now  with  bitter 
indignation:  Shame,  Princess,  shame  !" 

Both  Prince  Olenin  and  Count  Dolgoruki  were  furious  when 
they  saw  the  article,  and  the  editors  received  a  sharp  repri- 
mand. But  it  had  little  effect.  Reaction  against  the  bloody 
happenings  of  the  revolution  was  beginning  to  raise  its  head. 
The  True  Russians  were  as  merciless  to  high  and  low  as  their 
adversaries  had  been,  albeit  their  weapons  were  of  other  sort. 
Katya's  name  was  suppressed,  but  references  clear  beyond 
mistake  were  rife  as  to  her  ill-placed  zeal  in  "  the  Admiral's  " 
defence. 

Katya  soon  found  it  impossible  to  remain  in  Odessa.  Anna 
Nikolaievna,  Miss  Warden,  and  Yussuf  went  to  the  Dolgorukis, 
and  the  house  in  the  Konnaya  was  shut  up.  Katya  availed 
herself  of  the  temporary  cessation  of  the  railway  strike,  and 
returned  to  Priluka,  whither  the  rest  of  the  family  were 
shortly  to  assemble,  and  where  Mandelberg  was  to  arrange 
the  formalities  rendered  necessary  by  the  death  of  the 
Princess. 

Nothing  had  been  done  for  the  eagle  in  his  prison. 

When  the  little  train  from  Koronevo  steamed  into  the 
station  at  Dubni  about  midday,  Katya  looked  about  her  in 
search  of  Dimitri  and  Mikailo,  who  should  have  been  there  to 
fetch  her.  There  was  no  carriage,  however,  from  Priluka, 
nor  any  message.  The  station-master  invited  Katya  to  wait 


398  KATYA 

in  his  house ;  it  could  not  be  long  before  the  carriage  arrived. 
Some  little  accident  might  have  delayed  it  on  the  way,  or 
possibly  the  letter  had  not  arrived  in  time.  Everything  was 
so  uncertain  just  now.  .  .  . 

An  hour  passed,  and  the  half  of  another,  and  still  neither 
Mikailo  nor  Dimitri  had  appeared.  At  last  Katya  could  wait 
no  longer.  In  spite  of  the  warnings  of  the  station-master  and 
a  sergeant  of  gendarmes,  she  started  off  on  foot.  At  the 
relay  station  she  asked  if  she  could  hire  a  carriage;  the  Jew 
who  kept  it,  however,  refused  to  take  her  unless  she  would 
take  the  responsibility  for  both  vehicle  and  horses;  the 
peasants,  he  said,  would  steal  the  property  of  a  Jew  as  soon 
as  look  at  it. 

So  Katya  went  on  foot.  Along  the  broad  road,  with  its 
white  sand  and  its  patches  and  stretches  of  grass,  she  made 
her  way  back  to  her  home.  Her  heart  beat  anxiously;  old 
memories  circled  fearfully  about  her  mind,  as  birds  that  have 
heard  the  lash  of  shot  through  the  air  between  them.  Home- 
comings of  an  earlier  day:  from  school  at  Kief,  from  Paris 
after  her  year  with  the  Miliukins — the  gipsy  and  her  prophecies 
— the  drive  with  her  father  to  Patkanovo — the  memorable 
hour  with  Niki  and  General  Karatayef  .  .  .  and  but  a  fort- 
night since  two  men  had  fled  Priluka  by  that  road  .  .  .  Priluka 
was  deserted  now  by  page  and  troubadour;  no  one  to  sing 
beneath  her  window — her  youth  was  gone,  irrevocably  gone — 
and  only  helpless  loneliness  remained.  .  .  . 

The  fierce  sun  beat  upon  the  road ;  Katya  had  never  thought 
ten  verst  could  make  her  feel  so  weary.  She  paused  every 
few  minutes  to  rest,  and  stopped  between  the  rests  to  look 
ahead  and  see  if  Mikailo  were  not  coming,  or  to  look  back 
and  see  if  no  other  vehicle  were  in  sight.  But  the  broad  road 
lay  deserted  in  the  sunlight ;  from  huts  and  cottages  beside  the 
way  peasant-folk  stared  in  astonishment  to  see  Priluka's 
mistress  trudging  afoot  through  a  country  in  revolt. 

When  at  last  she  reached  the  boundary  of  the  park  she 
broke  through  the  hedge,  and  hastened  along  the  well-known 
paths  in  the  kindly  shade.  Soon  she  could  see  the  white  walls 
of  the  palace  on  the  slope  that  led  to  the  lake ;  she  drew  a  deep 
breath  of  relief ;  no  harm  had  come  to  the  home  of  the  Rilinskis. 

As  she  came  nearer,  however,  she  was  aware  of  shouts  and 
cries,  confused  noises  of  distress,  increasingly  distinct  as  she 


DETHRONED  399 

approached.  She  hurried  down  to  the  lake,  where  she  could 
see  unhindered. 

.  .  .  The  flames  looked  all  unreal  in  the  sunlight,  as  did  the 
thick  grey  clouds  of  smoke  among  the  foliage  of  the  trees. 
Yet  fire  it  was;  the  barns  and  stables  were  alight.  Mikailo's 
little  straw-thatched  house  was  flaring  like  a  torch. 

Katya  ran  at  the  top  of  her  speed  forward  towards  the 
smoking  beacon  that  flung  its  hot  breath  in  her  face.  The 
wind  brought  now  a  scent  of  new -mown  hay,  now  sickly  smells 
of  scorching  flesh.  The  leaves  shrivelled  on  the  trees,  birds 
flew  shrieking  about  their  nests.  Great  sheets  of  roof  and 
wall  came  crashing  down  from  either  wing. 

When  she  reached  the  drive  she  could  see  the  men  toiling 
with  pump  and  hose.  A  few  were  striving  to  break  down 
with  axes  the  wall  of  the  stable,  foremost  among  them  Mikailo, 
swinging  a  pickaxe  with  gigantic  strokes,  and  sobbing  and  cry- 
ing at  his  work.  He  cried  to  the  horses  in  their  flaming  prison, 
begging  them  to  be  patient  yet  a  little  while,  promising  help 
and  comfort,  bidding  them  have  courage,  calling  them  by 
endearing  names. 

Katya  stood  motionless,  watching  the  work.  Only  one  or 
two  of  those  engaged  in  fetching  water  had  noticed  her. 
She  could  do  nothing ;  she  knew  it,  and  she  did  not  move.  She 
seemed  a  stranger  to  herself;  her  will  and  thought  were 
tranced,  incapable. 

The  wall  of  the  stable  fell,  giving  a  way. 

The  furious  beasts  rushed  out  from  the  torturing  heat, 
through  maddening  sparks,  towards  the  sunlight,  and  fought 
in  the  crowded  breach,  rearing,  kicking,  biting  each  other,  the 
weaker  beasts  thrust  ruthlessly  aside  or  trodden  down.  The 
air  shook  with  unnatural  cries. 

Foremost  in  the  flock  that  galloped  down  the  slope  towards 
the  lake  was  Mazeppa,  blood-flecked,  with  flaming  mane  and 
eyes  fierce  with  horror  of  death.  A  fence  lay  right  in  its  way ; 
the  great  beast  gathered  itself  for  the  leap,  and  sprang. 

A  moment  later  and  Mazeppa  hung  in  a  formless,  huddled 
mass,  staked  on  the  palings  of  the  fence.  Without  a  sound  the 
splendid  creature  died ;  its  head  fell  over,  and  from  its  mouth 
dripped  slowly  a  thick  tangle  of  saliva  and  blood. 


400  KATYA 

CHAPTER  XII 

JUDGMENT 

THE  court  had  sentenced  Captain  Orloff  to  be  hanged.  He  was 
to  be  degraded  from  his  rank,  and  to  pay  an  enormous  fine. 
Olga  Konstantinovna  had,  however,  succeeded  in  obtaining 
from  the  Tsar  an  alteration  in  the  form  of  execution.  Captain 
Orloff  would  be  shot,  the  sentence  to  be  carried  out  in  the 
fortress  of  Otshakof,  which  lies  on  a  little  island  in  the  Black 
Sea,  some  four  hours'  journey  from  Odessa,  and  where  he  had 
been  imprisoned  during  the  time  which  had  elapsed  between 
the  judgment  of  the  court  and  the  decision  of  the  Tsar. 

It  was  late  in  November.  Katya  had  been  living  in  the 
Konnaya  since  autumn.  Through  the  influence  of  Prince 
Olenin  she  had  obtained  permission  to  send  Petya  some  small 
gifts,  and  two  or  three  letters.  The  prisoner  himself  was  not 
allowed  to  write.  Katya  had  tried  to  get  leave  to  visit  him, 
together  with  his  sister;  her  efforts  here,  however,  were  un- 
availing, and  only  Olga  Konstantinovna  was  admitted.  This 
was  perhaps  due  to  the  interference  of  Count  Dolgoruki. 
Katya's  activity  on  behalf  of  the  Admiral  of  mutineers  had 
grown  more  evident  and  unrestrained  as  the  time  for  sentence 
approached,  and  the  attacks  made  upon  her  by  the  press  were 
resumed.  The  effect  of  this  had  already  made  itself  apparent 
on  the  capital;  when  the  pension  was  at  last  conceded,  the 
amount  which  Katya  personally  was  to  receive  had  been 
reduced  by  a  thousand  roubles.  The  Count  feared  that 
further  trouble  might  ensue  if  Katya's  name  were  made  more 
prominent  in  connection  with  the  popular  expressions  of 
sympathy  which  were  continually  arising  both  in  Odessa  and 
Sevastopol. 

As  soon  as  the  decision  of  the  Tsar  was  made  public,  Katya 
determined  to  go  abroad.  Miss  Warden  and  Yussuf  were  to 
remain  with  the  children. 

Katya  felt  it  impossible  to  remain  in  Odessa,  at  Priluka, 
or  anywhere  in  Russia  during  that  fearful  time.  Her  mind 
was  so  disturbed  as  to  make  her  scarcely  responsible  for  her 
actions.  She  felt  her  own  helplessness  acutely.  Events 


JUDGMENT  401 

moved  on  in  all  their  crushing  force;  she  could  not  hinder, 
alter,  even  delay  their  progress.  Every  hand  seemed  raised 
against  her.  She  left  Russia,  rilled  with  the  need  of  feeling 
herself  alone,  away  from  all  who  knew  even  her  name. 

One  winter  morning,  soon  after  the  far,  pale  sun  had  risen 
above  the  waters  of  the  Black  Sea,  the  Commandant  at 
Otshakof  informed  Peotr  Konstantinovitch  Orloff  that  his 
last  hour  was  come. 

The  chaplain  came  to  prepare  the  prisoner  for  death;  the 
Admiral  of  mutineers  was  gentle  as  a  child.  He  kneeled  in 
prayer  with  quiet  feeling,  and  tears  dewed  his  eyes  as  he 
prayed  forgiveness  for  his  sins.  Peace  was  upon  his  face, 
and  in  his  every  movement;  he  walked  as  one  trusting  the 
mercy  of  God.  And  the  rest,  the  blessed  rest  of  death  was 
near. 

The  priest  asked  if  he  had  any  wish;  he  answered  that  he 
would  like  to  write  a  short  letter,  and  permission  was  given. 
When  it  was  written  he  gave  it  to  the  priest,  who  promised 
it  should  be  delivered. 

A  little  later  Admiral  Orloff's  son  was  led  out  into  a  court- 
yard surrounded  by  high  walls.  His  badges  and  marks  of 
rank  had  been  removed. 

A  sergeant  approached  to  bind  his  eyes;  Petya  declined. 
Then,  walking  to  the  place  assigned  to  him,  he  faced  the  firing- 
party,  looked  once  about  him,  and  closed  his  eyes. 

There  was  a  sharp  command,  the  crash  and  echo  of  a  volley, 
and  a  body  fell  to  earth. 

Petya  Orloff  had  found  peace  at  last. 

His  last  words  followed  the  woman  to  whom  they  were 
written  from  place  to  place.  Katya  was  drifting  restlessly 
about,  stopping  now  here,  now  there,  and  wandering  farther. 
At  last  she  found  a  little,  poor  hotel  in  Paris,  and  stayed  there 
for  the  loneliness.  And  here  at  last  letters  arrived. 

"  KATYA,  DEAR  LOVE, 

"  My  life  ends  now,  a  wasted  thing.  I  think  of  you 
that  evening  in  the  boat,  when  you  told  me  to  row,  row  hard, 
and  let  you  steer.  Ask  all  of  those  who  cared  for  me  to  forgive 
me.  I  have  loved  you  truly  until  death. 

"  PETYA." 
26 


402  KATYA 

All  through  that  day  Katya  wandered  aimlessly  about  Paris, 
unknown  and  knowing  none  in  the  crowded  streets.  Late 
the  same  night  she  was  found  lying  unconscious,  and  plundered 
of  all  she  had,  far  out  in  the  quarter  where  the  Rue  de  Neuilly 
meets  the  river.  She  was  carried  to  a  hospital,  and  it  was 
three  days  before  she  was  able  to  say  who  she  was  and  where 
she  lived. 

One  day  in  early  spring,  some  weeks  before  Prince  Alexander 
Alexandrovitch  Rilinski  was  to  take  possession  of  his  ancestral 
estate,  upon  completion  of  his  eighteenth  year,  Vladimir 
Shipagin  came  to  Priluka,  and  was  installed  in  his  old  room. 

Tatiana  Feodorovna,  Dimitri,  and  Mikailo  received  him 
warmly,  and  pressed  his  hands  in  welcome.  For  Vladimir 
Shipagin  was  now  the  last  of  those  who,  with  the  faithful 
servants,  still  remembered  the  days  of  greatness  past  at  the 
white  palace  in  Ukraine. 

Katya  had  returned  from  Paris  a  year  before,  and  taken  up 
her  quarters  at  Priluka.  During  this  last  year  of  her  reign 
there  she  had  gathered  all  her  nearest  friends  about  her.  And 
Shipagin  had  suggested  then  in  his  casual  way  that  she  and 
he  should  try  their  fortune  together.  He  was  weary  of  his 
freedom,  of  solitude,  and  he  wished  a  wife  of  such  nobility  as 
could  shed  lustre  over  Patkanovo.  After  the  destruction 
caused  by  the  peasant  rising  he  had  spent  large  sums  on  the 
restoration  of  the  place,  and  he  wanted  now  to  have  an 
establishment  suited  to  his  position  as  one  of  the  principal 
landowners  in  Ukraine.  Katya  had  all  the  qualities  necessary 
to  place  himself  and  his  household  at  the  proper  level.  More- 
over, he  and  she  were  almost  of  an  age.  Both  had  had  wide 
experience  of  life,  the  period  of  great  feelings  was  over  now, 
and  it  was  time  to  seek  the  quiet  security  of  a  home. 

At  first,  when  Vladimir  Shipagin  had  made  his  frank  pro- 
posal, Katya  had  angrily  refused.  But  he  could  wait.  There 
was  one  form  of  campaign,  moreover,  in  which  he  excelled; 
he  would  assemble  the  young  people,  Katya's  own  children, 
young  Prince  Rilinski,  Boris  and  Anastasia  Dolgoruki,  and 
tell  them  of  Katya's  triumphs.  His  drawling  voice  seemed 
never  to  tire  of  recounting  to  the  younger  generation  all  that 
had  happened  in  the  great  days  past,  when  Katya  had  been 
mistress  of  Priluka  in  fact.  Also  he  used  his  wealth  lavishly, 


JUDGMENT  403 

careless  of  what  sums  he  spent.  The  old  servants  at  Priluka, 
who  were  accustomed  to  receive  considerable  gifts  from  the 
many  guests,  were  overwhelmed  by  his  extravagance.  Katya's 
French  maid,  Jeannette,  increased  her  savings  by  hundreds 
of  roubles.  From  London  came  all  sorts  of  sporting  requisites 
for  Sergei  Karatayef,  and  jewels  arrived  from  Paris  for  Anna 
Nikolaievna.  Katya  herself  he  strove  to  delight  with  costly 
things  of  antique  silver  and  enamel,  such  as  are  bought  in 
Moscow.  And  when  the  daily  post-cart  returned  from  Dubni 
there  were  parcels  of  dainty  sweetmeats  from  Kief,  which 
brightened  the  table  at  lunch  and  dinner.  In  the  autumn, 
an  English  thoroughbred  mare  appeared  in  the  new  stables, 
a  gift  from  Vladimir  Shipagin  to  replace  Mazeppa. 

And  gradually  all  this  told.  Katya  had  grown  fearful  of  the 
future.  As  long  as  she  still  could  call  Priluka  her  own,  she 
scarcely  noticed  her  decrease  of  fortune.  But  as  soon  as  the 
place  was  taken  from  her  she  would  find  herself  but  poorly 
situated  in  comparison  with  what  she  had  been  accustomed 
to.  She  would  be  forced  to  alter  her  way  of  life,  or  else  to 
live  upon  her  children's  money — an  idea  which  the  tone  and 
disposition  of  General  Karatayef 's  will  rendered  insufferable. 
Vladimir  Shipagin  meant  freedom  from  all  such  cares. 

Nor  was  this  all.  .  .  .  Now  and  then  it  would  happen  that 
old  Tatiana  Feodorovna  took  her  mistress  confidentially 
aside,  and  whispered:  "  Katya,  my  child,  you  ought  to  take 
and  marry  him,  Vladimir  Alexandrovitch.  A  fine  man — only 
see  the  way  he  keeps  his  serviette  !  Clean  and  neat  always, 
like  everything  about  him.  And  you  should  hear  the  way 
he  talks  of  you ;  he  can  remember  everything  you've  said  since 
you  were  fifteen.  It's  no  more  than  yesterday  he  came  in  to 
pay  a  visit  to  Petrushka,  and  he  told  me  all  the  story  of  how 
you  took  and  blacked  the  poor  bird  with  your  dear  dead 
father's  hair  dye.  Yes,  you  should  take  him,  Katya — 
before  he  runs  away,  like  the  Englishman  with  the  horrible 
name." 

Mikailo  had  never  dreamed  of  such  equine  perfection  as 
was  made  manifest  in  the  English  thoroughbred.  "  Like  a 
thing  of  porcelain  or  glass,  Ekaterina  Sergeievna :  a  man  dares 
scarcely  touch  her.  But  she  understands  Russian,  though  she 
comes  from  London,  or  wherever  it  is.  /  do  not  know  who 
can  have  taught  her.  If  only  she  doesn't  forget  it  again 


404  KATYA 

before  you  take  her  to  Patkanovo,  for  there's  nobody  there 
to  speak  English  to  her." 

All  Priluka  was  in  league,  it  seemed,  with  Vladimir  Shipagin 
in  his  plan.  He  was  an  old  acquaintance.  And,  then, 
Patkanovo  was  not  so  far  away  but  that  communication 
might  be  kept  up  between  Priluka  and  its  true  mistress. 
There  would  be  a  new  master  soon,  a  young  Barin,  who  without 
doubt  would  bring  a  host  of  new  folk  with  him,  and  gradually 
the  old  ones  would  be  set  aside.  ...  It  would  be  well  to  have 
Ekaterina  Sergeievna  near  at  hand  that  she  might  watch 
over  those  who  with  herself  were  left  to  guard  the  memory  of 
old  tradition. 

Katya  had  lain  ill  in  Paris  for  over  a  month.  But  no  one 
knew  of  it;  she  never  spoke  about  that  time,  the  bitterest, 
it  seemed  to  her,  in  all  her  life — worse  even  than  the  dreadful 
days  following  Niki's  death.  Stradovo  had  at  least  been 
something  great ;  the  City  of  Suffering  had  brought  her  sorrow, 
yet  in  glorious  guise.  But  Petya's  death  had  been  a  shame 
and  misery.  Her  own  name  had  been  dragged  through  mire, 
while  Pashka's  sounded  as  a  saint's  on  the  lips  of  an  adoring 
people.  No  one  could  ever  persuade  Katya  that  she  had 
been  in  any  way  responsible  for  Niki's  death.  But  very 
clearly  she  could  hear  the  voice  that  told  her  how  her  fault 
had  borne  the  desperate  fruit  of  action  which  had  led  the 
son  of  Admiral  Orloff  to  disgrace  and  death.  Petya's  counsel 
had  said  as  much  in  a  letter  to  herself.  Olga  Konstantinovna 
understood.  And  Sonya  knew.  Anna  said  nothing,  made  no 
sign — yet  who  could  know  what  her  ever  observant,  still 
suspicious  mind  had  guessed  ?  On  her  sick-bed  in  Paris,  and 
daily  ever  since,  these  thoughts  had  been  Katya's  torment. 
Petya's  shadow  haunted  her  everywhere.  And  there  was 
Farringham;  now  that  she  knew  the  reason  of  his  flight,  her 
conscience  suffered  under  knowledge  of  the  power  which  she 
had  been  in  this  man's  life  and  fate.  Katya  feared  solitude 
as  children  fear  the  dark.  For  a  time  she  tried  to  win  back 
Sergei's  confidence  and  Anna's;  it  was  too  late,  her  children 
had  grown  from  her. 

Vladimir  Shipagin  offered  her  the  help  she  needed.  She 
told  herself  all  there  was  to  say  against  him :  his  shallowness,  his 
selfishness,  his  parvenu  manner,  and  his  connection  with  that 
gloomy  place  where  once  her  father  in  despair  and  dread  had 


JUDGMENT  405 

cried  for  aid  in  vain.  All  through  her  life  men  had  been  lavish 
with  their  love ;  Shipagin  had  no  power  or  knowledge  of  love. 
Niki,  George  Farringham,  Petya — all  men  of  splendid  temper 
beyond  others.  And  then  Shipagin.  .  .  . 

But  he  came  to  her  in  her  need.  It  might  be  that  her  mother 
had  been  right  when  she  had  said  he,  too,  was  a  faithful  friend. 
He  was  one  of  their  own  circle,  who  had  known  her  in  her 
greatness.  And  he  could  lift  away  her  cares,  show  her  a  way 
out  of  the  dreary  desert  of  her  loneliness.  Sonya  had  also 
married  without  love,  and  yet  her  life  had  brought  quiet 
happiness  and  peace. 

When  Vladimir  Shipagin  made  his  suggestion — it  could 
scarcely  be  called  a  proposal — for  the  second  time  Katya 
agreed.  And  now  he  had  come  to  lead  her  to  the  altar  in  the 
little  church  at  Dubni.  No  others  were  present  save  Shipagin's 
old  mother,  Katya's  two  children,  and  the  Count  and  Countess 
Dolgoruki. 

Katya  sat  in  the  carriage  with  Vladimir  Shipagin  at  her 
side.  The  pair  were  on  their  way  to  Patkanovo  to  take 
possession  of  their  future  home. 

Mikailo  was  decked  in  his  finest  in  honour  of  the  occasion. 
It  was  perhaps  the  last  time  he  would  drive  for  her  who  had 
been  his  fearless  comrade  and  the  darling  mistress  of  Priluka. 
He  did  his  best  to  impress  her  now,  in  his  sleeveless  kaftan  of 
black  velvet,  held  at  the  waist  by  a  silver  belt ;  red  blouse ; 
and  high  cloth  cap,  with  a  crown  of  peacock's  feathers  waving 
above  his  great  grey  mane  of  hair.  He  used  no  whip;  it  hung 
by  a  thong  from  his  wrist,  and  was  merely  ornamental.  But 
he  talked  to  his  horses ;  gave  them  explanations  in  a  language 
of  whistles,  shrieks,  cries,  and  little  songs.  It  had  its  deeper 
meaning,  no  doubt ;  the  horses  understood,  and  dashed  ahead 
through  mud  and  sand,  over  grass  and  stone. 

"  On,  on,  little  doves  I" 

Shipagin's  eyes  rested  on  Katya  as  she  bent  her  head  above 
the  flowers  Priluka  had  given  her  at  parting.  Truly  she  was 
desirable  that  day.  No  one  could  doubt  her  dignity  of  birth, 
or  fail  to  see  that  she  was  used  to  conquer  and  command. 

"  Katya,  remember  how  you  got  old  Alexei  to  fish  up 
Tanya's  kvas  from  the  well  ?" 

"  Yes — dear.     But  it  is  horribly  long  ago." 


406  KATYA 

"  I  shall  never  forget  how  you  told  your  father  afterwards : 
'  It  was  ever  so  easy,  papa — you  see,  Alek's  being  only  a 
man.  .  .  .'  " 

"  Oh,  don't,  Vladimir,  don't !" 

Katya  buried  her  face  in  the  cool  of  the  flowers.  She  could 
not  bear  to  think  of  those  early  victories  .  .  .  not  now  .  .  . 
never  any  more.  She  had  said  farewell  to  all  that  she  held 
dear.  Life  was  hard  and  cruel.  And  Priluka  was  growing 
farther  and  farther  away.  .  .  . 

"  Slower,  Mikailo,  drive  slower  !" 

Mikailo  turned  in  astonishment;  Katya  repeated  her  order. 
The  old  man  shook  his  head,  and  spoke  in  sadly  confidential 
tone  to  his  beasts : 

"  Go  gently,  little  lambs,  we  are  leaving  Priluka  !" 

Shipagin  was  pleased  with  himself  and  the  world.  The 
days  when  the  young  men  had  jeered  at  him  in  the  "  Club  " 
were  gone,  and  would  never  return.  This  was  Ekaterina 
Rilinski,  the  Cossack  from  Ukraine,  that  wondrous  woman 
who  forced  men  to  their  knees,  taking  their  homage  carelessly, 
as  flowers  by  the  way,  and  it  was  he  who  led  her  home  at  last. 

"  Katya,  remember  how  the  old  gipsy  told  our  fortunes  ? 
Awful  lot  of  nonsense  she  said,  and  impertinent  into  the  bargain. 
Some  of  it  came  true,  though,  after  all.  She  said  I'd  marry 
late,  I  remember — but  not  happily — the  old  witch;  she  should 
only  know  how  happy  I  am  with  ma  petite  Rilinski  f" 

"  Vladimir,  I  will  not  hear  that  name  !  You  weary  me. 
Can't  you  be  quiet  when  I  ask  you  !" 

She  picked  the  petals  from  the  flowers  and  strewed  them 
over  the  road.  Had  Niki  been  right  after  all — was  she  barren, 
in  truth  ?  Since  that  night  in  Stradovo  all  things  had  turned 
to  failure  and  misery.  Niki  torn  from  her  ere  she  had  won 
forgiveness;  Farringham  fled  from  her  home  in  bitterness 
and  anger ;  Petya  dead  for  her  fault  .  .  .  even  her  children  had 
forgotten  her.  Soon  a  new  generation,  knowing  nothing  of 
Katya  Rilinski,  would  move  about  Priluka  .  .  .  and  always 
that  ceaseless  voice  to  haunt  her  now,  that  whisper  from  the 
City  of  Suffering  ..."  Too  late  ...  it  is  too  late.  .  .  ." 

How  long  a  thing  was  life  !  Better  for  her  and  all  of  them 
if  she  had  died  in  the  hospital  in  Paris.  No  one  had  known 
her;  she  had  been  laid  unconscious  in  a  room  with  other 
poor  creatures  found  in  the  streets.  At  the  Russian  Embassy, 


JUDGMENT  407 

Grand  Dukes  and  foreign  magnates  moved  about  the  gold 
voliere  where  Katya  once  had  found  her  envied  place.  Her 
wings  were  broken  now,  as  some  poor  bird  of  passage  beneath 
St.  Vladimir's  lighted  cross  by  Dniepr's  banks,  checked  in  its 
flight  across  the  broad  fields  of  Ukraine. 

Had  she  the  power  to  build  up  life  once  more  upon  such 
ruins  ?  Katya  had  spied  despairingly  to  every  side.  But  her 
only  choice  lay  between  solitude  and  Patkanovo.  Patkanovo, 
a  place  so  hateful  as  to  seem  a  blot  upon  her  fair  Ukraine. 
And  yet  it  was  here  that  she  had  won  the  knowledge  and 
forged  the  weapons  with  which  she  had  saved  her  dear  ones 
from  shame  and  disaster.  But  now  no  human  creature  upon 
earth  had  need  of  Katya  Rilinski's  love. 

"  Go  gently,  little  doves — we  are  leaving  Priluka  !" 

The  landscape  passed  before  her  misty  eyes;  broad  plains 
of  Ukraine,  where  the  thatched  roofs  of  peasants'  huts  rose 
up  like  mushrooms  among  moss,  young  wheat  in  glistening 
waves  of  green,  groups  of  slight  birch  in  fine  new  leaf,  with 
golden  ribbons  of  sunlight  on  their  branches,  little  decrepit 
windmills  in  a  row,  an  old  oak  leaning  out  across  the  road, 
its  crown  ablush  with  spring,  and  here  and  there  a  reed-framed 
pond,  or  a  little  stream  that  murmured  on  its  way  to  join  the 
sobbing  flood  that  Dniepr  poured  into  the  sea.  No  breath 
of  wind,  no  sign  or  sound  of  any  living  thing  across  the  wide- 
stretched  plain :  a  rich  and  fertile  land,  yet  silent  as  a  desert. 
The  sky  so  clear  and  far,  the  shadow  full  of  life  and  soft,  half- 
melancholy  colour:  a  land  of  dreams  between  the  mighty 
rivers,  the  land  of  war  and  love — Ukraine,  Ukraine  ! 

Towards  evening,  as  the  twilight  fell,  Mikailo  drew  up 
before  the  steps  of  Patkanovo. 


THE    END 


BILLING  AND   SONS,   LTD.,   PRINTERS,   GUILDFORD 


THE  LIBRARY  . 

UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA 
LOS  ANGELES 


.R.E.?.IONAI  LIBRARY  FACILITY 


A    001  265904 


